IF you cut my face with a sharp and rusty knife, if you dug into the wound -pressing the flesh- trying to make it stay. If you carved into my flesh every day, of every year of my entire life, I am sure I would die with a scar on my face. No matter how hard I wanted it to go away, how hard I ignored it, how hard I cried, there would be a scar on my face. Big, red, fleshy, some sort of paralyzed worm just lying there, holding on. It doesn’t move, it doesn’t budge. It only clings. Scar.
NEAR Oranienburger strasse there’s this squat. It’s supposed to be occupied by artists, or so I understand. There’s some strange trend in
But then, there’s this squat. Disorder and worn out walls: and aesthetically as predictable and picturesque as any pop icon. You see, this is what we call The Irony of Success. Repetition of a tendency, ad nauseum. Put a price tag on your shit. 2 euros for a beer, cigarrette vending machine, Coca-cola umbrellas keeping customers out of the sun...the ominous and disturbing no photographs (Verboten!) allowed sign. Make some scultpures out of metal, make some shirts with the face of Emiliano Zapata. Make some postcards of your sculptures and sell them expensive, sell some shirts for 20 euros to the kids who want to believe but still have to pay to do so.
The point of traveling in
SPRENGELSTRASSE. Then Müllerstrasse. Rosa Luxemburg Strasse. Pedal fast. Unter del Linden, Branderburg, Reichstag, Tiergarden. The heart of touristic
KOTTBUSSER TOR. I’m waiting for Marlene. We’re gonna get some vegan burgers at a place she knows, east side. Meanwhile, I check out some junkies hawking subway tickets. The subway here works like this: you can ride the train, in a single direction, once, per ticket. There’s no turnstile, just inspectors. So my intravenous friends get used tickets, still within the time limit, and try to sell them for less outside the station. If I didn’t have a bike, I know exactly where I’d buy mine.
DISADVANTAGE OF THINKING POLITICS ON A SUNNY DAY: blue day, open sky. The first open sky in days. Reichstag. I stood in line a couple of hours, looking at the facade. There are no more burn marks on the Riechstag. Hitler erased them faster than he made them. I can’t help but think of La Moneda in
Dome. I’ve made it to the top, and now I can look down on the city.
If I had to describe it in twelve words and a contraction: You can look down all you want, but it’s still out of reach.
Dome at the Reichstag, fragments
LOVE, LOVE, LOVE. Kreuzeberg: I’d have fallen in love with it five years ago. That’s if it would’ve looked like this five years ago. The grafitti: there’s so much of it, the effect is unaesthetic. Abstract baroque chaos. I think
The shops are superb, though. Bio shops, vegan burger joints, punk record stores. I have to say I love
FENCES: All those bikes put together give an impression (if you pass low and fast enough) to be barb wire fences. Or that kid, his shirt says modernism. Does he read Ruben Darío? The sleeves on the shirt of the girl hide: tattoos, color. A Bouncing Souls logo.
NOTAS BILINGÜES SOBRE LA POTSDAMER PLATZ. Communism: hunger, horrible buildings, death, censorship. ¿Capitalismo? Can we really say that the good guys won this match? It’s nice to see how humanity and even human life, humans, transcend. Regimes, walls, wars, conflicts. How our eyes get to watch cities crumble. Wheel of fortune.
THURSDAY: You watch the leaves and the sun. You take a bite of a halumi sandwich, and drink an orange Bionade, you fucking hedonist. You bike next to the river, the magnificent river, and spend some time in a bookshop looking at Hokusai, Modigliani, and reading about Russian Censorship. You bike up to the East side, and discover the Checkpoint Charlie and all the tourists. You swerve a bit with your bike, because you can. East, west, east, west, east west, east west. You continue your way up to the Memorial, where you take a look at one of the last remaining stretches of it, of the wall. There is grass, and you feel the scent of something burning. You pass some abandoned playgrounds, and park at an angle. There is a bronze plaque on the ground.
Breakfast at the Morgenrot, all you can eat, pay anything from 4 to 8 euros depending on the money you have.