Back in Berlin

(Written during my two weeks back in Berlin, after four months away.)

I actually forgot the sound of sirens, til one blasted right past our apartment at midnight.

I forgot the cooing of the pigeons sitting on our useless french balcony.

I forgot the feeling of walking down the street, trying not to notice the unwanted male gaze. The feeling of not wearing enough, being conscious of my body, while I can wear the exact thing in Fröhden and not even think about it.

I enjoy hearing the noise of our upstairs neighbours’ shower and the TV of our neighbour whom we share a wall. Listening to snippets of other people’s lives, living their own lives so close to my own, yet knowing nothing about them.

Just being alone. Sitting on the couch, not doing much, or doing something useless. Noone to accidentally catch me being unproductive and lazy.

The ease of meeting friends and having my own space and deciding when others can enter it – is what I enjoy most about being in Berlin. It’s not so much the actual city, but it’s the tiny bubble I have here – just me – and occasionally Artur too. Our lives are extremely intertwined, but in Berlin they’re a bit less so.

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