bounce, bounce, bounce between an image and another.
happens all while driving, suddenly in front of me there are more buildings, but the sky must have slipped from the table of God to the feet of his guests and I spy a piece as if you corrected meeting to strip them all: and I recognize you from heaven to have been a Berlin, Prague, Geneva in Paris without ever being returned. strange journey, that of those who remain trapped and can not return home, without a place to rediscover life ... is the path of those who tramples on his shadow. Berlin, Berlin, and I would forget the light of the morning of August on Wittenberg Platz that afternoon to Nicolaiviertel that Sunday when I got lost and found myself right where I wanted to go that night in the dark, that night on the bus between the colored signs with two special friends, that way under the infinite intricacies of Alexanderplatz.
I want to go there and give up quell'ammiccante knowing smile, a touch that only what you forgot you ensure its purity. When pleasure was also a desire, when the discovery was all for me and a close hand a way to share and with the certainty of having been there and that nothing, no place will be the same after you're stumbling.
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