The Devil’s Mount

Berlin, summer 2012

I feel it the instant I walk through the door. Sound surrounds me. Every footstep, every click of my fingers, every single breath I take echoes around in the spherical shape I’m in. The sound fades with mathematical precision, until I make another move and ignite a new cascade. What my ears hear is all that matters.

Berlin’s great! After a two-week holiday at Zuzana’s place in Slovakia, we are now staying at Taicia’s. The city breathes art. Many squatted buildings are settlements for people to create. One solders a horse out of metal waste, others paint. We found a stage on the street, with music no one really liked but everyone appreciated, just because it’s Berlin. And then you have the remnants of the Wall, meandering through the city as a dried up river of torn emotions. It reminds us of our schizophrenic past.

We stumble upon a free exposition hidden somewhere deep inside a building near a bridge. The theme is resistance. The walls show pictures of demonstrations in all corners of the world this past year. There are pictures of the Arab spring, Occupy and Pussy Riot. Somewhere on a tile there’s a line that compels me. “The only real revolution is inner revolution”. I buy a book about the sacredness of trees.

It’s like finding yourself in a fully new game. I like to sing. I usually use my voice to reconnect. I now freely let sounds emerge from deep inside me. In my mind’s eye I see a stream of energy leaving through my mouth, far out into space. Alex Grey-like patterns. Everything is connected.

We arrived at the Teufelsberg after a half an hour walk through the woods. This building was built by the Americans to listen in on conversations by the USSR. It has been squatted and the walls have been adorned with amazing graffiti pictures. It has a tower with an enormous orb on top. I’m running around in it. Clicking, jumping and bungling around in euphoria.

There’s a window. Everything’s purplish red because the sun sets in the woods.

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