Berlin Majestic City

The hangover hit like a scratched record this morning. I see images of the majestic city of Berlin, Friedrichstrasse at the Spree, the high towers near Breitscheidplatz, fuck if I know what they are called. I keep falling for it, the allure. This city can pull you in with such an intensity, to dance with it becomes the only thing that matters. Then, one drink too many, comes home happy. At Alex the next day, you once again feel cold. Bricks are stacked where they once lay, but it's still all rubble. It's still all rubble, and those that live in it don't call it home. They call it Berlin, majestic city, then they drink.