Tabula Rasa

I caught myself inhaling to the cadence of the breeze. Berlin hadn’t treated me well - it had tested and pulled me, lulled me into false states and destroyed me in seconds. I was going to leave. It was you, really, who pushed me to go. To head back home. I had sold everything. Every last item in that tiny Kreuzberg apartment now belonged to somebody else. I messaged, ‘Final walk along the Spree?’ ‘See you in ten.’ We headed westward through Uferweg, that lingering summer sun floating with a blissful buoyancy. I realised how much I would miss you.