Berlin reflections

The rain was falling hard and fast on the gravel pavement outside the big windows that bordered the room from the outside world and the sky was white, the colour of a painters water  jar when smudging clouds onto a canvas. Six months of exhaustion seem to have finally hit me, now that i’ve slowed down, left the country, come here, to the arms of friends, to a place of sanctuary and creativity, a salon of stillness amidst a chaotic world of wailing sirens, umbrellas catching pelting raindrops, the u-bahn screeching to a halt in front of crowds of people who all seem to move rhythmically as one, a sea of bodies, constantly moving but finally I am still. Heavy eyelids mimic heavy clouds outside, the weather a perfect analogy for my mood, this desire to curl up in a tired ball and drift away to the ambient currents of melancholy music.

I woke up crying this morning, but my tears were subdued by a joint in the kitchen with a danish boy, together we ate oranges and spoke in metaphors and life felt lighter. Maybe I was running away from the empty space for so long because it scared me, spoke to me in words that demanded I go inside, uncover my emotions, feel the true weight of what I was really going through. So instead I hid from the space, from the reflections, from the psychological weight of what it meant to get sick. But now here it is, here it was the whole time, inside of me, waiting to be felt and no longer can I run from this feeling, no longer can I  keep moving, in a desperate attempt to try and avoid the rain.

Let it fall.

Let the water drip down my cheeks, soggy socks and crumpled clothes. Let the clouds rumble. Let the steam from hot cups of tea heal my bones, let the steam that rises from the pavement seep into my sinuses, let good food nourish, let all the rules go. Just feel.

Feeling is good. Feeling is necessary for healing. Surrender, surrender, surrender.

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