5th October, 2004 // Germany
Berlin, Brecht, und Bier.
The ageing red brick walls of the buildings seemed to watch as I walked through them. Shattered windows, broken doors, rotting floors. The place was a ghost town. An old, forgotten, collection of human existance. And I, armed only with my imagination and my camera, was the only living thing there.
I was in an old railway station. The buildings were mostly locked and boarded up, but many had ways in. And I searched out these entrances with an eagerness I had not felt in weeks.
This was exactly what I needed. Recently I had been feeling dreadful. Trapped. Like there was no life left in me. The end of my relationship with Sabine, and the recent death of someone dear to me, were definite factors in my sorrow. But it was more than that. I had hit a low. I was a bottom crawler. My soul was being devouerd by my demons, and I was powerless to stop them. Eventually, I had dropped to my knees in dispare and screamed at God to help me. I remember being in an open field, rosary in hand, praying. Praying for forgiveness, praying for help, praying for those that I loved. Then, as if in answer from the Lord, the village church bells began to ring, and draw me in.
This was the beginning of my revival. And the very next day, I was blessed by this amazing place of exploraion. And to further the perfection of the location, a lone tree, bearing the most delicious apples, grew in its midst. I was overjoyed.
The very next day I left the small village of Elstal for Berlin. I ruled this healed cold war city. I was Monarch of all I surveyed. Once again on top of my game. Once again, invincible!
Berlin was mine, and I walked its streets and strasse's, leeching from its Dom's, kirche's, and theatres, the voyagistic energy of the unknown.
Brecht, a german playwrite, had set up a theatre in berlin ages ago with his wife, and I saught out this building. I had seen one of his plays in Bristol unknowingly. "Mother courage and her children", or with its German name, "Mutter courage und ihr Kinder" and I was delighted to find out that it was written by a German.
Und die Bier? Well, they do serve beer in McDonalds in Deutschland. I graced that awful place with my presence to find out. A quest laid upon me by my old friend Konrad before I had left Canada. The beer was fine, just as all the beer in Germany.
Well, I'll leave you with that touch up. Next I plan to head off to the Czech republic. Prague has always been alureing to me. And it is spoken of by travellers as the most beautiful city in Europe. We shall see...
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