i wish
night witches past
Cycling through the park. It’s very dark but the sky is purple. Passing alongside the old Bahnhof I see the lights leap from one long window to the next. The medieval bridge with its turrets, the dark towers, the choppy dark water. The entrance to the park is guarded by forty black men. They own it, they share it, they deserve it. This is how you make your living until citizenship arrives. Their faces are hard to distinguish in the shadows. Alles klar? they say, cheerfully, Alles klar? It means, all clear, which means, is everything clear? do you need anything? do you want to buy drugs?
All clear, and I’d like to keep it that way. Danke, danke. The trees along the broad straight path lean over me as I speed along in a gust of wind, gathering and whispering like old women with long fingers.
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