One million roads

Berlin and I, initially were like former lovers. We had to talk, but we didn’t stand each other. However, later we decided to give our relationship another chance.

The heart of Berlin, the heart of my city-lover, one would never find in museums, libraries, expensive restaurants or besides architectural monuments. The heart of Berlin is lying on the streets, it pounds to the beat of techno at nightclubs, pulsing together with the dancing crowd. The heart of Berlin stinks of marijuana and cheap beer flows through its veins instead of blood. The Heart of Berlin is worn out and it’s covered with scars and marks. But the heart continues to beat, and anyone who would at least once in his or her life hear the beat will want to dance with Berlin.

My dance with Berlin began last February. We danced near the Reichstag, ate doner kebabs on the streets and drank coffee at Starbucks. I learned how to dance with this city with a heavy backpack behind my shoulders. I did not have enough money to afford an expensive dress or a hotel for a night and I had to dance with the city on the streets, wearing a «Ramones» t-shirt and with the green hair.

But ultimately I fell in love with Berlin one early morning. We came out of a club and walked towards a subway station. The streets were empty. We climbed to the bridge and decided to look at the water. Ice in the river was broken up into the multitude of large and small parts that resembled pieces of dandruff. Friends kept walking, but I stopped and realized it was the best thing that I had seen in Berlin. It seemed to me that I saw something special in this city. Something that Berlin could only tell to me. It was akin to a feeling when you touch with the bare hand to the Berlin Wall and it transfers you a few years back. You remember the story of this place and feel it with your whole body. This wall has so much life, love, grief and pain. Recalling that event you can’t understand how people could sell the pieces of the wall in souvenir shops.

Later I stayed for a few days inside a derelict building Kopi and talked until the midnight about the Berlin Wall and the story with all my friends who were punks, painters and musicians. But as soon as the fire in the stove went out, everyone went to bed, including me. I laid down on a big mattress on the floor, covered myself with a jacket and fell asleep with a big smile on my face because my lover Berlin was lying next to me.