Berlin

Berlin is a city in recovery, rebirth. A city that both apologizes for itself and looks wide-eyed at the future. It’s a breakup album that tops the charts; a flower growing through a crack in the concrete. I’m attracted to its nakedness. I like its long grey stretches of nothing between niche restaurants in cold buildings that are pumping out some of the best food I’ve had in a while. I don’t know that I’ve ever been somewhere with such fresh history: gold tiles on the concrete note the residents that were “deported” to concentration camps. Coffee bars move into their basements. It’s a city that attracts youth and immigrants, black sheep and bad apples; it has the room to let people reinvent themselves. It has the space for creativity. I made sure to read the names on every gold tile (a harrowing amount), to read the history of every memorial.