Another One Bites the Dust.

This morning while I slept, another Spaniard left via Lufthansa. The picnic yesterday was in honor if him seeing as it was the last time we would all be together in that fashion. There was a lot of “Have a good and safe trip!” and “Good luck with your last year, and in life as well!” but no one cried this time. And yet there was a definite heaviness in the air last night.
After leaving the park a small branch of people went off to Morgenrot, (or is it Morgen Rot?) and we grabbed a few Becks and sat along the ripped up tracks on Kastanian Alle. They are refinishing that part of the street so by day there are bulky Germans working diligently and by night it collects people poring out of crowded bars.
After an intense and slightly drunken search for falafel with another Spaniard and an Italian I ran like hell to catch my late night tram off home. I sat munching my now very messy falafel next to a guy who took some sort of interest in watching me eat. Regardless of the time of day here, Berlin scares up some strange folks.

Each of these days has just been so normal as if Thursday is never going to happen. Yet, I have already started packing, started collecting my things from the shelves, and started to decide what I am going to leave behind/donate to the next tenant. By Friday this will be her apartment. This comfy chair, as ugly as it is, will be her ugly chair, and so/so forth with everything in this place. But I will be happy to see people. I will be happy to see Virginia again. I miss, strangely enough, the way it smells there – especially when one is driving down Battlefield Blvd. heading toward the N. Carolina border. In many ways, as much as I love this city and have taken advantage of my time here, I can’t help but think deep down I was meant to live between a field of collards and corn.