HE CAME TO BERLIN TO DIE
A man travels to Berlin. He knows he’s about to die. He will not be going back home. All is preparing for his death. He came to Berlin to die. That is his venue for this singular extinction. Together. There’s an endless amount of participants in this group-dying act. Looking at this city - blood blown gently by its ghosts, dance floor nectar pouring up and down on its juicy spiral. Immigrants or locals, queers or refugees, party animals or mere junkies - we all drain down the sewerage of pearls. This feeling of “no choice” - what is that about? The act of formation - one big trans like entity - a new body, a new life, a new dawn, another day... where judgment and shame are not part of the conversation. The myth is decomposing as we speak. Can you hear them? The darkroom floors forever sticky. The sound of sports shoes on a basketball court. No one is listening - no winner, no points - the smells reminds him of his previous lives, burning down the house. Pissing on the trees. Horny sorcerers, super long lines, HEARTS DON'T HEAL HERE, they just sink deeper in the sand.
