Tempelhofer Feld, May 11 2022

I haven’t been at Tempelhofer Feld so much the last couple of weeks, and when I have, it’s been doing ultra-lazy laps on my bike, totally not lycra’d up — except for bib shorts under my trackies, ’cos butt comfort. Today was 28° and felt like mid-30s, warm and dry wind, heavy sun, cloudy hazy sky. The Feld was full and the fields have grown from stubble to knee-high in a couple of weeks, doing that luscious, hallucinogenic, erotic green of spring all flushed and horny.

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Tempelhofer Feld In-Between Hail Storms

I got in a long-ish, 2 1/2 hour walk in-between the squalls pouring hailstorms on Berlin. Birds were rowdy, really could have kept walking for another 2 1/2 hours.

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Tempelhofer Feld, March 24 2022

Me photographing lycra’d-up cyclists ended up being me photographing trees. I went for my usual bike plus walk, trying to persuade myself to not feel sick or whatever the fuck the last seven months has been about, got myself over to the southern perimeter road, sat under one of the young trees and watched the cyclists do their anti-clockwise laps. And tried to photograph them. Rapidly closing and departing moving targets.

What did I learn? Locking the ISO to at least 400 helps with shooting at an angle towards the sun and helps prevent everything blowing out. Locking the exposure to at least 1/1000 also, because bike wheels are moving quick and I want a nice, sharp, contrasty image. And I can do that on my FujiFilm X-T4 because the sensor is kinda massive and the lens is bigger than my old camera. Heaps of light, fuckall noise. It’s like follow-spot in theatre, I have to move ahead of the action, not follow. If I shoot burst-mode, I can effectively film each cyclist passing, then go back and find the ‘perfect’ shot. I don’t shoot burst because … I dunno, I hate the aesthetic and the mentality. It’s not photography, just like I don’t like cropping. I like that I mostly don’t ‘get the shot’, and like photographing dance, I have to know the work, anticipate what’s coming up, know how a rider and bike is going to look at a certain distance, a certain angle, with the sun hitting them, all that. None of which I really nailed satisfactorily. Like my previous walk, where I got familiar with the manual focus, a pile of nothing special.

This tree I liked the look of though. Last days of bare limbs before spring jizzes everywhere.

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Saatwinkler Damm

Bike ride and walking through Volkspark Rehberge and along Saatwinkler Damm with Dasniya the day after equinox and first day of spring. This was where I used to bike when I lived up in Wedding, all the way to the lakes and through the forest around Flughafen Tegel. We saw a wild boar and biked through the parks and streets back to Uferhallen and the Panke Kanal.

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Crows and Snow

Rando bit of very late in winter these days snow last week. Probably the last cold-ish weather till next winter (when we’ll still be in lockdown ’cos haha isn’t Germany slash Europe doing well?!? Dying. (Figuratively, yo.)) And the crows are back in their precarious nest high up in that tree in the centre. The small black blob midway from bottom of photo to crown of the thin trunk is them.

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Half-Way Iftar With Accompanying Reading

Yes, I ate all that. In retrospect, slightly heavy on the greens.

Our Women on the Ground would likely be my Book of the Year if I was still doing that.

Ramadan’s been frankly brutal this year. I do it because I want to and I enjoy being reminded of part of my family and history I know almost nothing about, but with the pandemic and all the accompanying stress (thanks white supremacists in all your forms) I just wanna sleep through the next two weeks.

Sometimes trans femme queer immigrant multiethnic neurodiverse self-love is a real hard one to do alone.

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Spring Moon Again Again 🌙

Last year it was walking Sonnenallee the evening before that made me realise I’d have to, as always, at least show up for the first day. Last year it was Eid getting pounded in a rain storm, later hanging with Vass, and a couple of days after that flying to Marbella for a very expensive not-holiday. This year. The will I won’t I conversation still happened, though it seems less believable this time around. It’s not the middle of summer for a start, though the days are still long. It’s still, “Just do the first day, at least that. Just that for your babaanne, your granny, your karani, your tūpuna wahine. Just do this one thing as best you can.” Every year, trying to make sense of missing history and if nothing else, Ramadan is, in the words of my stanch bro Onyx, a big offering to all that. Here’s the birds in the courtyard park out back of my place going fully pre-dawn hectic at 5am. Ramadan Mubarak fam, and Ramadan Kareem especially to my trans and non-binary and queer and bi sisters and siblings.