Berlin: Summer Nights

Some say that Berlin Nights should be spent and not remembered. Mine tend to be unforgettable. Take this one for example, a stroll into a stressful streetfood Thursday at the Markthalle in Kreuzberg, zooming across town to the Hasenheide, dodging through the drug deals in the woody corners until we come to the open air cinema. There we huddle together under sweaters and anoraks, hugging our Club Mates and Fritz Kolas between our fingers and sneaking a cute sized packet of gummibears over and under our elbows until everyone is satisfied. The film is Wim Wenders Wings of Desire. Weird, atmospheric, moving and totally Berlin. It's one of those films that lingers on into the night, as you wander back through the now rather sinister feeling Hasenheide to the Fotoautomat opposite the bus stop and attempt to take two rolls of photos before the bus arrives to take you home. It's whimsy and disorientating and yet you ride the top of the bus as light as a feather, realising that, for the first time in a long time, you are quite deliriously happy. 

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