I slept much of the way, or rather failed to stave off falling awake. It must have been not pretty for those close enough to endure watching me struggle so.
Having decided the difference between flying from Brussels to Berlin and catching a train was around the order of three hours (one and a bit hour flight means nothing when check-in is two before and airport is another one to get to), and with the extra pleasure of no baggage weight limit nor irritation of customs, I thought sitting staring at the fields being harvested, train stations, small towns I’d never visit, let alone remember a day later, would be a pretty way to spend an afternoon.
Ah, well, the air-conditioning breaking down, getting stuck in aforementioned small town for half an hour, thus missing the connection at Köln, so waiting there for over an hour, to find myself on a train going extremely slowly (which is to say not moving at all) somewhere east of Hannover while the entire contents of an unassembled railway line thudded past almost as slowly in the opposite direction … I was close to dehydration by the time Berlin hove into view, and decided unanimously that waiting for the U55 line to be finished was not as desirable as catching a taxi.
In Berlin again, after more than three weeks absence. So long that riding my bike caused suffering. Lucky Wednesday was the Wedding Markets behind the Rathaus, so I succumbed to the cries of, “Bitchin! Bitchin! Angebot!” (In truth, they are saying ‘Bitte Schön’, but it’s abbreviated in such a way as to annul resistance to buying 2 kilos of peaches for 1 euro).
Some books had arrived also, one of which I shall write on when I experience lucidity.
Along with all this, I have been subjected to getting up early. Rehearsals with Daniel Schlusser over Skype. Shall write of this also.
The train station at Liège is one of the most ‘smooth, cool lines of the future; arriving now’ cocoons of architecture I’ve seen. It says, “Please photograph me”. So I did.