Grey as fuck yesterday, rainy as fuck later in the week, pandemic and staring down the open throat of a lockdown again and here goes Berlin flashing her wares. Berlin is such the hard lover who occasionally does this.
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.
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.
As I said to Vass, “I stood at the window watching the snow just pinging out cos complex 3-dimensional particle dynamics in a fluid dynamics medium are legit my jam.”
I thought the first flurry was going to be all we got. Very grateful for this one that coated the trees and grass for a few minutes.
This is the first snow of winter. And it’s already spring. I miss this weather so much, I’m going to blog it excessively.
I really wish I’d held off on my ride this morning for a couple of hours so I could have had the joy of being out in this.
Walking to the U-Bahn after rehearsing with Isabelle in Wiesenburg. Best part of Berlin is Wedding.
Well into the final run down to shortest day of the year, Berlin turning on its cold, damp, dim grey lid on a pot season. The neighbours have gone all festive, brass band on the weekend, and a diminutive Christmas tree all lit up in the gloom today. Cow is unbothered.
Backyard garden park turning on the colours on an almost frosty autumn morning.