LUFT

Those nights back then. Do you remember? Remember when you could chew the air in January? So heavy with coal you could feel the weight of it on your skin, the texture, the gritty texture of it in your teeth. That was air with presence. Do you remember? Berliner Luft.

Walking alone at midnight on the path beside Paul Linke Ufer - the water undulating like crude oil beside me. I remember it was comforting.

That night the light was falling down the bank from the street and lying shattered on the path in front of me and my boots were so loud that I stopped. I stopped and shuddered and shivered and looked around and wondered again, what brought me there and what kept me there.

In those days - do you remember? - the sky was never dark in January. It glowed a luminous indigo orange. And looking at the sky from the path beside Paul Linke Ufer, looking up through the branches like black lace, the sky with its special chemical radiance, was beautiful. And the night was a total sense experience.

Then from the other side of the canal, a moving search light swept low and passing indifferently over two tired swans, two tired and somewhat grimy swans floating on the water, it hit my retina, instantly provoking an flight fight response.

But this was counter-manded in the next instant by the thought that it was only a light refracting off the water into my eye. A matter of optics, physics, physiology and a lower brain stem response. Nothing to worry about really. Still I decided to pick up the pace, to move along, to get the hell out of there. You see I wasn't convinced that it was more rational to feel safe.

Oh those night back then. Do you remember? Remember when, you could chew the air and the sky was luminous. Those Berliner lights, Those foggy Berliner nights. And the heavy Berliner Luft. Beautiful Beautiful.