fleeing desire, desire to flee...another day in the city.

the day: slept in until 12, then wandered out with mohammed to a vokü near kastanienallee (eberswalder ubahn stop) and we stumbled upon the mauerpark flea market, which was fabulous and overwhelming. i looked longingly at the DDR-esque captain/army hats but they were far out of my price range...alas. we were starving and when we eventually made it to the address of the squat we found only a modelling agency (??) so we came back to alexanderplatz and ate chinese food by the fountain. then i wandered, magnetically compelled, back to my favorite turkish cafe in kreuzberg and attempted to read my book but was interrupted by the fabulous peoplewatching to be had. first i met some siblings from friesland and then gheli (possibly italian)...we talked (in german) about building your own life and he took me to dinner at a nearby italian restaurant. about 2 hours into talking to him about this and that he clarified his "i love america" position to include "...and therefore i love george bush" and his freedom-war and so on. it was quite interesting. i have to admit that his meinung was instantly detestable to me but he continued to insist that america's world police status had made a very positive difference to the area which he was from, who had been struggling with oppressive arabic regimes for hundreds of years. hm. interesting insofar as i won't invalidate anyone's experience but the meanings and convictions that they derive from it i will readily discuss and disagree with...even when i don't have the vocabulary to do so...anyway, it was an interesting but occasionally frustrating conversation.

my space. the space to exist outside of how i appear? to not be foremost a woman? to not be attractive? to disappear tomorrow? to be rude and irrational and disagree and not be patted on the head and told, "well, this is my experience, and you can't really argue with that, now can you?" i am not seeking to invalidate but i don't want to be boxed or underestimated or even estimated based on my age or gender or appearance or words.

yet how can this be, when these are the only things which we have to go on.
when a man falls in love with a beautiful woman because she is as sweet as a doe and when he throws a rock at her back and she turns, startled, to see only an empty street, he falls deeper and deeper into love...and at the end of the story, you know this part?, of course he will finally leap out of the bushes and she will have loved him all along.

this is not my story.