You know, people actually think, some of them, that all this complaining I do about Berlin is about me. I’m just projecting my internal unhappiness on what I see around me; it’s very possible to live here and have a wonderful life. In fact, they say, I’ve gone so far that I can’t see any positive thing about this city, although it’s universally recognized as one of the greatest in the world. In other words, it’s not the city’s negativity, it’s my negativity.
And I think, what if they’re right? What if it’s just my own messed-up self?
And then, like a message from heaven, something happens to make me realize that I’m right, dammit!
Although today isn’t maybe the best example of it, spring has actually happened here, and the trees are budding and the random crocus or early daffodil has made an appearance, at least in dog-poop-free areas, such as there are. There are different birds starting to hang out in my back yard, and I’ve bought my first bundle of fresh asparagus. It feels more like March, but the calendar clearly says April.
So the other day, when I walked to Galleries Lafayette and Alexanderplatz, I saw this sign of spring. And it just summed up the whole life-denying, negative, repressive, juvenile, unhealthy culture that obtains here.
So while you’re suffocating under a pre-Easter overload of fuzzy bunny rabbits and yellow chickies, spare a moment to think about what the return of spring means to the enlightened burghers of Berlin.
Anybody got some balloons, some paint, and a catapult?