A last walk across Frankfurter Allee, one last time strolling past the old Stalin buildings on Karl Marx Allee until I reach Alexanderplatz. Breathing the wide distance between the blocks, sucking in the dirty air the cars have left for me, but nevertheless drunk from the view of the all so wide valley between Bahnhof Lichtenberg and the TV tower. Won’t be seeing such a great distance anytime soon.
As I’m boarding my plane to New York, I can feel a stiffness spreading wide inside me: I see myself getting lost between those skyscrapers, can feel every single degree that burns into my skin, feel the filth and garbage of Time Square almost entering my veins. And I can already feel those elbows hitting me while I try to maneuver my backpack past fat bodies, see my own body get stuck in other people as we all pass Times Square. There’s no air to breath here, and I sort of regret my travel arrangements. Why didn’t I just spend the summer at a lake in Brandenburg, splashing S. with water every hour, escaping the summer in the city? I wonder why I ventured out to that moloch, forcing myself to indulge fully in the too many attractions of the city of cities again.
But then, on my first morning in New York, I awake to that perfect sunrise. I hardly ever see the sun rise, because the sun has a tendency to rise while I’m still asleep. But today, still in that sweet dream of jetleg, where the hours of the days expand endlessly, I am awaken by the rising sun. A sun that dances this wonderful dance with the Manhattan skyline. I am instantly in love and looking forward to the weeks ahead of me, looking forward to get lost in the streets of New York now that I’ve seen them dancing with the rising sun.