“You are crazy my child, you need to go to Berlin.” – Franz von Suppé
It’s been a while since I’ve last visited you, but I’ve been thinking of you recently.
Thinking about the memories I’ve made over the years surrounding by the grey concrete, the red symbols from the communist age and the dirty snow covered pavement.
A cityscape where nowadays you see more greenery is poking its head around the corner, between the tall grey buildings, as if to say “Hello”. No matter what season it is.
Memories made in a place with its history deeply seeped into the buildings, oozing through the cracks.
Thinking about whenever you take a walk through Berlin, and you’ll find something in every corner. Where the soundtrack to your walk is the many different languages being spoken. Where each suburb has its own little idea of what Berlin is about.
The rough edges juxtaposed with the smooth architecture of better times. Where the eccentric and crazy live alongside the ordinary. The loud sits with the quiet.
Where you have the possibility to quickly escape into the countryside, surrounded by the never-ending possibilities.
Where at the same time, you’re a city where you could quickly find where everything is happening.
Where independence runs through the city’s vein, that quiet restlessness against the feeling of being constrained by barriers. That quiet beating of an independent heart that saw a wall torn down.
Memories made in a city that shaped you. A city with all its quirks that somehow finds it’s way under your skin.
So until we meet again Berlin, I’ll keep those impressions close to my heart.