Bye Bye Berlin

Thanks for the drinks. For the broken boots, the skirt, the crumple effect outside Zozoville after too much jagermeister. Thanks for the smell of firewood in the morning and the way the air bites my fingers and cheeks and nose, the long wide roads, the masses of greenery I didn’t expect you to have. Thanks for the cupcakes, the spaetzle, the brunches, the late night burgers, the art, the races, the beer, Habarmayer, soup bundles, massive scarves, the beautiful people, the tram, the apartment big enough to do cartwheels in. And the bookshops. Did I mention the bookshops? And for the dogs I don’t even like, the tiny children peddling furiously on the tiny bicycles, the rigorous recycling routine, the clinking, The Big Pink, the visitors, the heavenly food halls, the fall of the wall. Not to forget the toasters and old army boots and soft toys hanging from the windows of the squats and all the green hair in Friedrichshain. The punks and vegan shoe criminals, the beasts, DDR era style, woven polo shirts, the love graffiti. 2am beer runs, Turkish shops, tiny glasses of hot black tea while waiting for falafel, the free wine bar, the Bronx accent, the big boots on the u-bahn, the wet mist. And for the smell of the air as you near Winter.

Thanks Berlin. You’ve been kind to me. I’ll come see you again soon.