Darkness wraps Berlin. The air is heavy, as if it were always going to rain, but it never does, and mild, as if autumn were too lazy to give way to a new winter.I got to Berlin, this time sitting lazy in cheap trains, but barely managing to get some sleep. Now Iceland is out of the map, so instead of London and Copenhagen, Berlin is now my new centre of the universe.I don't feel like writing much - actually I don't feel like doing much at all. I'm only passing by; meeting people after a long time, talking about love and mother earth, having a few cheap drinks in bars that look like they've survived atomic warfare. Everything goes, I will go, the coins in my pocket will go, and Berlin will stay. Next time there will be another Berlin, like each of the probably ten or fifteen times I've come here before.It's hard to become a nomad again. I don't feel out of place. I lack a purpose. I should grab one, the world is teeming with purposes. Just make sure it's really yours then and that you didn't just borrow it.I need to get rid of this autumn bed mood. To most people, beds are to sleep; to me, they're the place from where I see the world, a mental point of reference. In summer it's easier, because just anything can be a bed (when it's not raining). In the winter, I tend to be an advanced homestayer. Or a couch potato.One really positive thing of nomadic life is that because you have abandoned your bed, you sleep less. Of course it doesn't help if you spend the rest of the day in bed anyway, but still. You have a bit more time to think.
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