Siegen, siegessäule, sing mir, und mich.

 (Next to the Friedrichstr. S-Bahn you found the place. Brecht-Platz. You didn’t remember that that’s where the picture was taken. But you recognized. So you took another one. 7 years later. The Past. Doesn’t matter what you do you cannot remember that word in German, but in your head Zukunft spread its roots really fast. You checked your dictionary ‘Vergangenheit’, gangen, gegen… there is something wrong about this, at least it seems so)

(Another rem(a)inder: Toujours quand tu voyages, tu trouves le nom de ta ville, partout. Pandemic. Schock. Who said the end of the world started in Mexico? Warum nicht? Aber, da ist encore Berlin. Berliner Mexiko).

The necessity of thinking something essential (or of feeling it). My first philosophical discussion (with other philosophers) auf Deutsch: “aber die Leute brauchen die Wahrheit” One is skeptic. And when one thinks the Essence is behind…

(Ich höre und sage: “I love you baby…”)

Yes. Hegel was a madman. And so as Kant. Und wir? Die Wahrheit, die ist das, der Wahnsinn. Erkennst du?  “They will eat you alive, in the city.”

So you went to see the Tomb. Der Grab. La lápida. Das klingt besser auf weiblich. “die Wahrheit als Weib…” But the grave resounds, has an echo-you learned longtime ago. And yet not yet.

So, you’re more interested-now-in the women, the wives of the Philosophers. What are their names?  Marie Hegel born Tucher. Johanna Marie Fichte born Rahn. Geboren. Perhaps that’s where the echo is. Echo.

 

Take a building, take the Tor, take yourself. Ich bin allein, laufe ich, fotografiere ich-simple terms. “They will eat you alive, in the city.”

 

Akademie der Kunste. As always, you found it by accident. Just as in that book about Beckett, with his picture in front of it and the story about the old lady that cleaned his room. Sein Zimmer, Becketts Zimmer. (Verstehst du?) This time you order a coffee, the Mädchen smiled at you, and then when you asked the Keller where was the Siegessäule, you understood his directions. (What is not here is the turn of night. Kill ‘em all and the schlectes Bier. Watergate and dawn under the Bridge-the sound in your ears, dein tanzender Kopf. Ein Becks, bitte. Zwei Becks, bitte. Française, oui, c’est bon. C’est bon être de tous les pays. The night in your head and your head over that night. Time. You almost forgot. Wasser.

Siegessäule. Siegen “in einem Kampf, Streit oder in einem Wettbewerb stärker oder besser als der Gegner sein” Säule. “ein starker Pfosten (meist aus Stein), der das Dach eines grossen Gebäudes stützt.” Bedeutungen. Why you came here. Immer dort. As if you needed a theme. As if everything wasn’t already there-mingled. Ich bin hier geflogen. Ach so! Think of me, think of the book, think of the film, think of. Erinnerst du? Nein, ich möchte nicht gern.  

You couldn’t climb, go up. Donc, tu essaies de toute façon, von die ganze Welt. Augen. Recline your head, hear the city, and tell me a story, about all the places not visited, not thought of. About all what you didn’t foresee. The history of accidents.

 

Geschichte. As you played with the meanings and the homophonies. Until you came back to the monument-see it as you have never. Last time only a picture. Now you can dance around it, make themes. The book, the woman, the feet, the hammer. And don’t forget the lion. The Smith. Green and black. Toujours agenouillé. Law's Lust. "La folie du jour". Elle reste, en jouissant. 

 

Green, as you go into the woods. Tiergarten. Welche Art des Tiers bist du? Heute, ein sonderbarer Berliner-etwas wieso. Or just somebody a little lost. Take the birds. Take yourself again. Mark yourself. Spur.

 

Bellevue. One last time on the S-Bahn. Almost. Birds. What is it about wings, about birds, about flying? Yes, even in Berlin you dreamed of flying. Noch einmal. Immer noch. Perhaps ‘encore’, ‘immer noch’, ‘todavía’, ‘still’, sound to you like flying. That is the pause. Your beloved suspension.

 

I’m flying home.