Saturday, November 12, 2011

A Different Kind of Travel Diary


Now nothing but a token in my head, like a notch on a bedpost. I didn't want to take general pictures, at first, because I wanted it all inside, I wanted it to be all mine. No one and nothing can steal memories. They can take them away or destroy them, but never steal them. Then I took pictures, on my "sightseeing day", because the girl I was with did it. Conformity, mimicking to make a bond, more than trying to preserve visual memories. When I came, I knew there were only two photos I wanted and was going to get at any cost. The big arc, and the pieces of the wall at Potsdamer, and I wanted those for one reason only: proof. I was there. I had been there, at those locations, which were exactly where JYJ had been two days earlier. But when I took those two, I thought, in this modern age of internet, photoshop and reality-like graphic technologies, what kind of proof is a photo? No. I still cherish those two photos, but in reality there is only one proof: memories. All mine.

I've been emotionally haywire, it's starting to settle now. Haywire in my own quiet way. And though the dust has settled, the pigments sunk to the bottom of the glass and the water is clearer, I can conjure it back. Just take my little finger and gently draw it over the water surface and see the colors swirl. All I need to think is "I walked away, I left of free will." Being on my own in a foreign environment, I realized, happiness doesn't come in many forms it comes it one. One. And it has not been here for a while. I walked away, I left of free will, I willingly walked back into my cauldron of despair.

Loving someone you don't know is like an addiction to the pain. A pain that makes you feel more alive than ever, and then, when it settles, makes you want to claw your eyes out, just to a moment later be chasing the high again. I must never let go of my vow to never drink alone. I must never smoke a cigarette, and I must be careful with medicine. Because it's so easy. It's so easy to want the addiction, and once you want it, you're not longer steering the boat, you're just riding the waves, the ups and the downs. It's wonderful, it's liberating, it's an illusion of freedom so strong you can no longer see any other freedom.


Without JYJ Berlin is just a city like any other city, filled with people like any other people, and buildings like any other buildings. Sticks and stones, flesh and bones. But it's not about JYJ, you know that, just like it's not really about alcohol or pills or cigarettes. It's about that through my own madness, for one day only, I gave Berlin wings and turned it into something beautiful. And like all true art, it lasted only for an all too short time.

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