A BERLIN STORY

Street Art, Bülowstraße, Berlin

THE CHANGE

One day I woke up and I was not myself anymore. I was not in my small iron framed bed where I used to dream about weird animals and even weirder planets. I woke up in a huge bed under a cheap blanket and next to me was someone. I wasn't used to having another warm body next to me all night, even though I was certainly the warmer color there. As I slowly got conscious of what was around me and where I was, I moved to the bathroom. I wanted to see the change through my eyes. My hair was longer and had a surreal dark red color that didn't belong to me completely or better it didn't belong to me yet. I showered to let the tiny invisible rests of my old life flow down in the water network, where they would mix up with other fractions of other people old lives and swim back to the ocean as memories. I dressed up in black, because that was apparently my new yet not mine style and started my new adventure with a full heart.

THE ADVENTURE
 

Living the days I would find out I lived on a planet, whose sexuality was not defined, called Berlin(o). 

The first impression was very melancholic and distant to anything radiant and orange and warm as my childhood had been. It was grey, rainy and incredibly ugly. It was dark blue also, but there were some spots of lights, like little stars. Those were the people that filled my days and the places that made my home. To connect those lights, I used a sky-blue bike and we were so synchronized, so balanced with each other that as I was moving my feet, it would move the pedals. Life was fast on the bike; the landscape was frenetic and I didn't want to stop. So, I just kept going forward on it and it soon became part of my body. A lot of other things became part of me and developed so much that at one point I was so full of beautiful things, I thought I could explode like a supernova. 

The planet was, in fact, an incredible source of any kind of artistic inspiration. Some legends say there's a black spot down south in a place called Cross Mountain where all the arts generate. To support this theory, they say, it must be so and in no other place as there, on the circular pole of the mountain, all cultures come together and create an energy which is sometimes peaceful and always loud.

Philosophy grew in me along with literature and visual arts. The long-born fascination for the theory found the perfect place to become practice and to grow into a form. So, I was there creating everything that would come up to my mind, was it a chemical reaction in the lab or a drawing in my room. Not everybody is born so lucky to have an inner capacity for imagination but the planet had answers to that as well. During endless parties it was possible to connect with the gods using some sparkling magic. It didn't matter for which gods you were dancing, what body language you were speaking as everything in the essence is just waves or particles or waves and particles. Those events gave us, inhabitants of Berlin, the possibility to dream even when we had all our dreams fulfilled, to create even when everything had already been created and to feel the body with the soul, the music with the soul and the sky with the same fucking soul.

THE END
 

Of course, as in any meeting of two equally strong forces, there was a crush, a struggle, a fight and a winner. Now I can't come up with a judge who could decide rightful who the winner is, between me and you. We aren't equal, florid planet. I conquered more of you then you did of me. You enriched me so much, your people, your chaos, your attitude and I used your weapons to fight back. Somewhere in a corner, or better meridian of your surface, there's my name. I lost battles, though, some important ones. I suffered under your neutral skies and I hated how fake your perfect vegetables were. I hated how tasteless you are in everything you do. I suffered the loss of my roots and the temperature leap of waking up in a big bed without that someone next to me. In the end, in the very very end, after a summer of 
"never let me go!"
"I have to go! It is for my future!"
"Are you sure? You will never find anybody as sexy as me!"
"how do you dare say that"
"You won't leave me, you are not that brave", 
I am finally taking a train or better my sky-blue bike and a train to continue my growth and my struggle on another planet, or maybe just on a minor satellite of another major planet.

I look in the mirror now and I still have long hair, but now they are a mixture of black and blond, somehow definitely more fitting to my face. I can see my soul too, I have a chaotic soul. My soul is made of many dots, but the lines are not focused so it can happen that one dot mixes up with another in harmony to create a new undefined form. My dots are different in colour and intensity and some of them make a sound too. My dots are the people I have met, the places I have seen and all the other things that keep my curiosity and my energy alive.