#DailyPrompt: Oil, Meet Water

LumièreWe stopped on the path, near the canal, our preferred running lane in Faust’s metropolis, under the chestnut trees. The air was already much cooler, prelude to the cold wind that soon would blow from the plains of Poland and beyond.

“You’re getting too good for me,” I said, nearly out of breath, with the smile of a slightly puzzled male, faced with exquisite female beauty, and superior strength in one.

You smiled and blew a kiss: “Come on, I have to justify your admiration, and, besides, were we not a bischen different it would not work would it?” With the Köpenick accent, how could I ever resist you?

#FiveSentenceFiction: Hunger

In memory of Rosa Luxemburg, assassinated by proto-nazis in Berlin, on 15 January 1919.

Landwehrkanal u. Herakles Brücke

She’s here, standing still on this bridge, over the canal I know so well: I am surprised she accepted the invite.

Her creator’s description of her is so true: the curves of a goddess, the raven hair, the icy grey pupils, and those lips…

Ah, this hunger, this hunger for her soul…

Looking down at me with utter contempt, she says: “Here, not that long ago, your minions killed a good woman, a very good friend of mine…”

I don’t have the time to reply, in a fluid and unstoppable move she seizes my bony legs and throws me over in the dark waters of the canal: she’s a warrior, and I a miserable devil.

Brandenburg and her capital: #longing

I dream of the city, as it was, long before Frederick, not the capital of  a respected and feared kingdom, with a formidable army, but the main settlement of a peaceful people, in the midst of lakes and thick forests, surrounded by wilderness.

Soldiers plundering a farm during the thirty years' war Then came the long war, the uninterrupted banditry, the destructions, the killing of women and children by drunk and pitiless soldiers, the burning of churches. All the German lands were ransacked by marauding troops of mercenaries, and the land’s own army was no better. Lawlessness ruled, and finally the whole land laid in ruins. But the people fought back, order was recreated out of chaos… It took thirty years.

The city, Faust’s city, later became the capital of the new kingdom, that was proclaimed, far to the East, in Königsberg, on the shores of the Baltic Sea, the Ostsee. When Frederick, der Philosopher König, inherited the crown from his father, der Soldaten König, Prussia was already a power among the other European powers. His city, Berlin, became the centre of the Enlightenment, and it was befitting that Königsberg was also Immanuel Kant’s birth place.

So, I keep dreaming, of the long history, of Blücher’s victory in Waterloo, for it was Prussia, and the Prussian armies that won that war. Before many others. I see the Siegessaüle column, in the middle of the Tiergarten, and the memorial that dominates Viktoria Park. My thoughts are never very far from there, from the streets of Kreuzberg, from the river, from the Landwehr canal where they threw the martyred body of Rosa Luxemburg in 1919. So much to think about, to write about.

Soon, we will walk those streets again, our minds full of those memories, our eyes capturing the beauty and strangeness of the scenery: us, among  so many others, enthralled, astonished, under the spell of Berlin. And so many ghosts, so many familiar faces that cannot be there, but somehow are, out of films, out of books, out of our own demented imagination, out of a deep past.

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