WRITE A TRAIN TO RIDE HISTORY

It´s exactly the right time to be in Berlin. The past weeks were horribly exhausting and directed by foreign forces. One second later and I would´ve exploded. One second earlier would just have missed. After the farewell I could finally breathe. On my way in the train the pressure passed by. Blurred like the landscape outside. It´s not really about the capital. I myself am the city that I´m entering. To explore it´s hidden corners, known but new. There´s no map and no plan, every movement is improvised. At every fork I have to decide once again, as there´s no routine to draw me. I can´t predict the outcome, because every step opens up another uncertainty, in which I might totally get lost. I´m looking forward to cafés, theatre, museums and a floating here and now. I observe, what only I can see. I recognise and feel what moves me. The silence makes me hear my own voice. And if anybody wants to spoil my mood, then it´s nobody but myself. I don´t need any sense, things happen, because I let them happen. That makes it the right thing. Mainly I can think. Think anyway and think what I want to think. And write.