On many nights I have been in Berlin in my dreams. This Berlin isn't real, rather than a theatrical set: an endless, heavily built city with monumental builtings, church towers and statues covered in coal dust. I walk a steep hill and an ominous aeroplane passes me flying between the buildings. Finally I reach the banks of the river. The water is flooding on the pavement and people are pulling a dead horse out of the water. A horse the size of a whale. (Sampled from Ingmar Bergman's Laterna Magica)
* * *
A young black man sits on a bench in the subway car. He wears a grey business suit that is far too big for him. He has a fake diamond earring and scratched white shoes. He looks very tired, red eyes and all, but he is hanging onto his briefcase, going decisively to his meeting.
A little girl hops with dancing steps in the supermarket. She has a Burger King crown, golden locks and a grey teddybear coat. Fernsehturm is right outside the large sliding doors, flocks of birds circling the church dome.
Men are sitting in the park. Young men, adult men. They seem to do nothing, but you sense that they are about a business when you pass them. They look at you, waiting for you to look back. Otherwise the park is almost empty, thrash cages half full, some people sitting in the biergarten.
The girl at the café has dark rings around her eyes. She is pretty and she gives you tea made with a bunch of fresh mint leaves. You sit on a second-hand sofa surrounded by everything second-hand except for music that shines in plastic tones. Young women around a table near you would be happy to receive second-hand love, they have no more need for a brand new one.
The other day I suddenly felt more lonely than ever before. And I felt comfort within this emotion, at least for a while. I was thinking what is freedom? What would make me feel free? Free to do whatever I wished.
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