Weekend in Berlin.

Zeit fur brot
Ich bin ein Berliner! Half a duck if you please, and a pint of Malteser. In the Turtle restaurant, under the pipes, which are above the ground. And the sun is OUT! Fortified by kaffeekuchen, flitting through the Tiergarten, walrus moustaches aplenty. Brandenburg Gate, Unter den Linden, Schlesisches Tor, try saying that five times quickly. Perched on a giant bronze woman, Ramones playing, burgers, trains filing by. Over to Kreuzberg to look at all the lovely things, endless walking, haggling over a paper bag, ceiling art for some, strange masks for others. Down south for a vernissage and a kebab, then subterranean jazz, then bed. Mauerpark the next day, sampling the Flohmarkt wares, a glimpse of the GDR from a Trabi tent at the Kultur Brauerei, Brexit monologue, then the papers and flammkuchen at the Kant café.

Perfect.

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