Berlin: The City of Adolescence

Berlin is in a constant state of adolescence, a teenager rebelling against their German parents of sensibility and punctuality. Berlin sneaks out of the house, to attend a creative cabaret act or dine in a ritzy restaurant.

Just like teenagers, Berliners crave independence and individuality, wanting to carve their space in the city. Berliners distinguish themselves by which facial piercings they have, and what colors they use in their tattoos. The clubs and restaurants are unique too, usually exclusive in a way that is accessible to some… not all. Sometimes you need an eyebrow piercing to get in, sometimes you need to know the DJ.

Every woman for herself.

Berlin is whiplash (a leather whip, to be exact) in a city. I thought this as I exited the museum, turning to the right to find a massive church, walking with beautiful people, each person I passed by in a more outlandish outfit than the last. I thought this as I exited the metro station, finding myself in a city that looked completely different but called itself the same name. How can it be, that the city still lives in the shadow of the Wall? I don’t know, but the East-West divide still exists. Infused in the air is a Berliner Weiße, a sour tang. Memories of the past dirty, stain, and fracture the present, from the street lamps to the salaries.

Berlin changes its mind (and weather) at a whim. The only beckon Berliners follow is that of a DJ or a dominatrix. So enjoy this terrifying traveling troupe or convivial circus. To enjoy Berlin, it’s best to discard whatever opinion you have of it. Leave it on the street with the döner kebab receipts.

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