Mart-deBlog

Of the many spheres in life, my time in Berlin leads me deep into the experience of the night. The night has come to stand for the world I experience and the mood of my character. In the night, there is the endless studying. And as I read the deeper I descend into the quiet and as I write, others seem unreal. The night is not dark. And it is all but sad. It is simply quiet and empty. Every book is a preparation for a next day, but simultaneously it is an end in itself as if nothing comes afterward. As a night does not truly end, it is only negated by the sun: the night lasts in the corners where the sun does not reach. And the submersion into books is the same movement as the journey through Berlin's nightlife. I do not know Berlin by day, I know it by its shadowplay. With a bottle of beer in my hand, Berlin passes by the window of the trains in the night. And in the clubs I journey through an underworld where one is not allowed to look back, where the day does not exist. Amongst the freaks of the nightclub I am sane, blind as the dark beats maim my senses, silence the voice of thoughts and turn them light and fleeting. As I dance, I learn about the space in between ideas, as they become a lightly breeze. And coming outside I am alone while everyone sleeps, they appear to be standing still as I move onwards through the shining dark. All is in nocturnal peace.

And that is the mood of how I live; the world I experience an empty sky, wherein ethereal clouds are passing by, a breeze and the sound of silence.