From Writhe’s journal:

I’m in the Berlin Ostbahnhof. I got into Germany and find my way around immediately. I am given a warm reception at the Backpacker hostel. Although the conversation soon turns against me. One of the girls that works there showed me her new tattoo. I think I remember her saying something about getting it before I left the last time. It’s a weird symbolf of some sort and I’m kinda confued. I ask her what it is and she says that it’s her life. I think I accidentally let out a slow “ooookaaaay” and immediately felt like a jerk. She was obviously upset that I didn’t remember or my reaction was less than complimentary, and the people sitting around the common area all give me dirty looks. I leave before it gets any worse. On my first stay here, everything was great. I made a lot of friends and people seemed to like me. Now it’s different. I hope that doesn’t set the mood for the rest of my stay.

That night I got ready for club Duncker where I am supposed to meet Anke. As I am about to leave, some Canadian guy asks if he can tag along. I accept and tell him to take his time getting ready as I don’t want to be sitting at the bar (waiting for Anke like a tool like last time). I got worried that they wouldn’t let this guy in because of the way he was dressed so I let him borrow my Bauhaus shirt. We walk there to pass the time and we still get there early. The Canadian turns out to be pretty cool. We wait outside the club by the train tracks and talk about shit until more people show up.

Inside they are playing a very strict set of goth, like Bela Lugosi’s dead type of old school. Then the music turns Industrial, then Experimental, then Apocalyptic. The Canadian and I talk a bit and then go our separate ways. M is there and we hang out outside. He tells me about their gig in London this weekend. He’s reserving me two tickets somehow. Some random girl asks me if she can drink my blood and I tell her I don’t have any. The crowd gets big. All the students are back in town for the semester. I ended up talking to this one girl and her husband from South Africa about the scene and what it’s like in Berlin and South Africa. I dance a bit. And almost forget that I’m here waiting for Anke when there is a tap on my shoulder during some EBM track I am unfamiliar with.

I don’t know if it’s that I’m really tipsy, but Anke looks absolutely hot. I impulsively grab her, bring her to the dance floor, and we start dancing together. I feel nothing but her body, her breath, and the music that is making us move in unison. The crowd around us is a flashing, multicolored blur. I can barely hear her giggle a few times in my ear. She’s happy. I’m happy. We’re together and for several long moments everything is perfect in my world. If there is ever a moment in my life to strive for, this sets a precedent. And out of all the moments I had ever wished that a deejay would beat match and blend into the next track, this would be the time I wished it the most.

That didn’t happen. There was a small break between the tracks and the next one was a little slower. This gave Anke and I time to pull slightly apart, look at each other, to reset our feet and start moving to the new rhythm. I’m not sure who leaned into whom, all I remember is having our lips pressed against each other. She tasted sweet like a sugary drink, her tongue was wet and teasing, her breath was passionate. It was just like the first time we kissed back in New Orleans, the day after her band played at the Bastille. It was explosive and saturated with color, like one of those intricate paintings of the inside of a human body with all those psychic rays and auras around it. Our kiss was a drug and it was something I told myself I could easily get addicted to. I would do this forever. I would stay here on this dance floor, in this club, in this country. I would drop everything to never have to leave here.

And at that moment I made up my mind and I wanted to tell her all of these things. I unwillingly drew myself away from her lips, they seemed like soft magnets. I saw the brief moment when she started to puff out her lower lip in a sad, cute protest.

That’s when the floor came rushing up at my face.