Control #TheDailyPost #MaiFeierTag

Today’s Prompt, May 2, 2017

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As we approach the well known street, the crowd gets denser, perhaps quieter too, as if listening to itself. There are many people here, young and old, in pairs or small groups. The air is crisp and the sky peppered with cotton-like clouds. Will it rain? People chat, laugh, stop at little stalls that sell food and drinks. Some carry flags, or small hand-written panels that proclaim peace, or the end of time.

We walk hand in hand in this familiar city, our home. We stop at a band, listen for a few minutes, walk on. There are speeches, some photographers stand on ladders, for a better view of the human sea. More people are coming. Residents sit at their windows, admiring the show.

At the limits, barring motors to access the streets, stand the city police, calm, reflective, attentive. Girls smile. Little ones in push-chairs look at the sky. You look at me and say: “You see, this is a great holiday, and all is in control!”

Picture: Sunday morning, May 1, 2017, Brandenburger Tor (Honoré Dupuis) 

From Suburbia to the Centre, and back again #amwriting

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Planning a move is exciting, and also threatening. So much can go awry, the unexpected lurks at every corner. We have inhabited this parcel of suburbia for a long time, longer than we originally thought, for sure. And, now, we are about to leave this bit of the funny island for  the city of Faust, right in the middle!

We found, hopefully, the place, where to live, to dream, to love, to write… and to wander. More than a room, with a view. All the signs are there: the path through the urban, and ancient, gardens, the waterfall, the dark, deep waters of the canal… the bikes everywhere.

Not far is the river, the few remnants of the old wall, the new shiny skyscrapers: the fight with the Devil, who’s alive, and determined. The new book has a title, and a hero, more mature, a little bruised, and loving it. There is a diary to keep, and the photoblog.

In the meantime, we still have the city of Moloch, to enjoy. Later, we’ll be back. Peace.

Image: Engelbecken (Angel’s Pool), Berlin Kreuzberg, © 2016 Honoré Dupuis

 

Stroll #TheDailyPost

Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.

Viktoria Park

I just dreamed about it, we were there, and on the first morning we walked in the park nearby. It’s exactly as we imagined – or remembered – a cool island in the middle of the city, early joggers, people taking in the fresh air, reading on benches, discussing their plan for the day with friends.

And then there is the cascade, and the god at the bottom, near the usually busy street. We walked past it, followed the avenue, at that time of the morning there was yet little traffic. We came back through the quiet street that leads to the “quartier”, and took the stairs.

When I woke up, you were still asleep. I was in a different city, an hour behind the one I’d just left. It was time to make coffee, and look again at the floor plan. We will get there won’t we?

Image: Neptune, Viktoria Park, Berlin Kreuzberg, © Honoré Dupuis

Weekly Writing Challenge: The Sound of Silence #writing

There are multiple ways of interacting with silence: purposefully leaving something unsaid, breaking the silence around a topic, or, quite simply, getting tongue-tied. For this week’s challenge, we want you to take the theme of silence and explore it in your own way.

Andreas EmbirikosThe studio is empty, but then it is not: you are everywhere, in the books on the shelves, the records on the low table, near the sofa. You are on the keys of this keyboard, in the scent of you in the bathroom, in our bed, on my clothes. On my lips.

You are not far, you are here. Standing on the balcony, breathing in the icy air of Kreuzberg, there is no sound: snow covers the pavement, the streets. The city is silent, the pregnant pre-dawn silence, before the birds recognise the new day.

I come in, shut the door. I sense the little wave which travels from there, the corner of the desk where our secret lies, murmuring sweet and terrible truths: loving a ghost has its price, and being loved by her – by you – a higher price still.

How I love this city. How I love our silent place, full of you, full of us, overflowing with pleasures that have no names. And memories. I take your wooden face in my hands, its surface feels warm, like a skin. Those deep eyes seize me, as if to confirm your presence, but I know. I know it is your way of reassuring me, of telling me that I have already payed the price, of your love.

This is the start of a new day. Surrounded by you, I take the steps for what must follow: getting showered, getting dressed, making coffee, starting work. All the time, your eyes follow me, and so comes the inspiration: how not to tell the story, of a writer in love with his muse?

In Berlin (in five sentences…)

Viktoria ParkI drove carefully along your highways, approaching your centre as one approaches a very beautiful woman, a little tensed, perhaps apprehensive at the thought of your contemptuous stare…

How quiet were your tree-lined streets, how beautiful Viktoria park in the late Summer light, and how radiant your smile when you open your door, my adored lover, my soul, my mistress.

It was so quiet, everywhere, as if the leaves of the trees were silencing the far-away murmur of traffic; but this is not London nor Paris: this is the city of a hard-won peace. Oh Berlin, city of our love, where so long ago, you said we would meet again, here, on the banks of the Spree, unter den Linden.

Memorial to the Berlin Airlift, 1948, TempelhofFor I adore your city, as I adore you, knowing that history never totally disappears, knowing the Topography of the Terror, the martyred bodies on the Wall, the long way back to life after the fall… Eastside Gallery, die Alte National Gallery… Dem Deutschen Volke…

In Tempelhof we ran, my eyes never leaving the golden hair and your sun-tanned legs, the goddess’s steps. And in the evening we walked the calm streets of Kreuzberg, and then you taught me that Aphrodite herself lives here.

The Young Dancer, Alte Nationalgallery