March Thoughts
I can feel Daphne slowly evolving like some kind of Pokémon and sometimes I wonder if I‘m going to be able to separate them again later. She‘s so convincing that sometimes even I long to be with her just a little longer.
A tired ticket seller sternly warns me that I‘ll be locked in overnight if I don’t leave the botanical gardens on time in the evening. I can’t tell whether this is a threat or maybe an invitation. She then points towards the sign that says this as if it’s some kind of legal proof. I can now confirm that they turn off the lights inside the greenhouses fifteen minutes before closing time. I left on time.
My friend gets frustrated trying to explain pecans to me, she doesn't know what they’re called. „They’re like walnuts but more elegant!“. I admit I do like elegant walnuts in my breakfast.
Our neighbour’s five year old son ambushes me with questions while I‘m sitting on the bench in our courtyard. His parents are nowhere in sight, I wonder where he defected from. He gets straight to business: how come men wear belts and women don’t? I explain to him that women probably have wider hips so they don’t need them as much. He’s not satisfied with this answer and I can see more questions about women’s hips forming in his blue eyes. Let‘s go find your parents before we both get in trouble.
A young woman in Treptower Park is trying to convince her poodle to do a trick. She starts prancing like she’s in a Disney movie, hoping the dog will join her. The poodle looks up offended, wondering what kind of indignity is this.
The day after I was born my mom lent all her clothing to her hospital roommate for a couple of hours. She'd had an emergency birth, never got a chance to grab her things and needed to sort out some paperwork. Imagine having to ask a near stranger for a favor like that. I didn‘t press on how exactly this arrangement came about. She wore everything, down to the boots, coat and fur hat. I asked mom: So did it feel like you? Is it like looking at yourself? She said: „Not at all.“
She looks so peaceful and ethereal (La muse endormie). Brancusi made about two dozen different versions of this sculpture, but this one’s my favourite. The bronze gives it this sci-fi feel that I really like.
Almost every woman in Berlin parts her hair in the middle, it’s basically the law. I only became aware of this because people occasionally point out to me that I don’t. I can’t help but wonder who gets to decide these things.
My neighbour’s house gets graffitied semi-regularly, he immediately rushes to paint over it. Most times I don’t even get a chance to see the masterpiece, just a fresh coat of paint in the morning. Is it a strategy? Or maybe he just hates it that much? But today the graffiti’s just been sitting there for hours, it says: Marco Crew. He‘s probably not home or maybe they’ve finally broken his spirit. I‘d go downstairs to take a photo, but I‘m afraid he might think it was me all these years.