The (quite literal) point of no return

The overwhelming notion of time slipping through my fingers is gone. Time goes with a slower pace than ever before. Coffee tastes stronger, beer tastes sweeter, and conversations sink into my brain a little deeper.

No more deadline of going back, no more guilt about missing something out (well, there’s always a little guilt left but it comes out of respect and not out of the fear of not being at the right place at the right time).

A week in Munich. No idea how many more are ahead, and it doesn’t matter. But in this week that went by, super fast and super slowly at the same time, so much beauty was born and was shared – again.

Reunions. Concerts. Private moments and public ones. Das Hobos, Friends of Gas, Takashi Hattori, the hearing of Bambadea and the quite musical reading voice of Matthias Hirth, and already countless DJ sets and dives at Favo and Tam Tam and surprise turns of events that make this handful of venues and bars so exciting to me. Yes, my typical Munich weekend extends from Thursday to Tuesday, so what? These weekday-weekend-nights have the best resonance frequency : less ambient noise, richer colour

My ears full of songs, my brain reconfigured to German speech, my heart full of all of “my people”. By day I struggle for survival and settlement in a new country. By night, I heal the wounds of grief and exhaustion with music and the “right here right now”.

Learning again how to treat the blank page as a friend and not as a foe. But it’s clumsy and awkward and deconstructed, exactly like this blog post.

Each day brings new opportunities and ideas and little by little, the hope of a better tomorrow turns into a realistic plan. For me. For this microcosm of beauty that I call the Scene.

I am struck with the idea that I’m not waiting to see what the future holds. Instead, I feel like I am slowly pulling off wrapping paper from the present (see what I did here), and its content morphs under my fingertips. I’m not manipulating it in any away, it just reacts to my touch, playfully. It feels good, maybe a little sensual also. A dance with time and circumstances, under dim lights and super moons and with music resonating deep in my chest.