Like living a movie

I've lived in a series of disconnected scenes in a movie during the last two weeks. Not a pervasive feeling, but just occasional moments striking me. Like I am the central female figure in a plotless-yet-dramatic film, but the character's face is never seen... only her feet, maybe her arms swinging as she walks. But you see what she sees and sometimes you have the same impression or emotion but you are never quite sure. Just this odd feeling of "I'm living in a scene from a movie" ... and these impressions, randomly striking. Like a sudden awareness of everything but yourself.

Moments walking down tunnels to the U-Bahn with semi-stale pressurized wind blowing hair and scarf and coat behind. Sitting on a bench in Hauptbanhof eating a baguette sandwich with brie and tomatoes, regarding the comings and goings of travellers.Croissants with chocolate and hot milchkaffee warming wetness from rainy Kreutzberg streets. Gazing upward at the changing violet, blue, pink, purple flush of the architectural tent suspended over the courtyard of the Sony Centre.

Cobbled stones underfoot on streets of a 13th century fishing village now plunked in the midst of urban sprawl and rushing traffic in Kopernick.

Drinking hot mulled wine with amaretto in the amber glow of a Christmas market at the base of an artificial snow slide in Potsdamer Platz, muffled people noise and the laughter and smiles of friends caressing ears. Being one of only 4 voyeurs at a showing of "shortbus" at an art-house rep-style cinema off Haupstrasse. Eating a full dinner at noon after a night of dancing and disjointed morning sleep.Anticipation of auditory pleasure on the edge of a seat in Tempodrom at the Jamie Cullum concert, while buying a freshly baked pretzel from a woman who produces it from a woven basket carried over her arm.

Twisted trunks and branches scratching rich blue sky above a trampolining pair of friends.


Caviar and Kermit accompanied by caipahrinas. Afterschool neighborhood homegoings observed on Akazienstrasse with Dads balancing sons on bicycle crossbars, backpacked girls skipping along and Moms klatching with prams at the sidewalk cafe feeding babies yogurt and bread.

Curves and lines and interesections inside the Reichstag Dom, slicing delicious pie pieces from the Berlin skyline.

And from inside the Dom to inside my head and inside the right now, right then at those moments. Feeling of being inside a bubble, insulated from the world and other people, like inside a camera looking out. Disembodied from corporeality. Not really sure if you're there at all. "I am here, I am in Berlin, I am here..." a mantra, reconnecting with and reminding of the absolute.

Does this happen when you are a stranger in a strange city without language or relationships? It wasn't unpleasant but definitely remarkable. And now home, where I have this new impression. Did it really happen? Was I really there?

Glimpses of self reflected in darkened glass.