A Summer Smile Comes Not Without a Rock
The first azure skies come with a rolling thunder to Berlin. At first, the spotted patterns of the heaven seem harmless, and a deep purple blue colored cloud blows over without a single drop, making room again for the vacant airs of summer. But within minutes new waves of foaming waters above, now accompanied by the fresh smell of moist winds, and sharp, shiny silver stabs of lightning, cut across the rooftop horizon of the city, fast and dangerous but on the slow beat of crawling thunder.
As the heaven closes like a grand stage behind a blackened curtain, the rolls of cleaving light repeats itself faster and faster, like a tiring day forgetting to keep pace, but still more filled with expectation than fulfillment. A summer smile comes not without a rock. The light now breaks through the window’s glass, penetrates the inner sanctuary, and light burst back out, answering the call of lone television sets, of gruesomeness and splendour of a flattened, hollow world. Continue reading