Have you ever been to a place without clocks?
Where you close your eyes, and you don't know who you are anymore?
Now it's Sunday, or Tuesday, or Saturday.
Where you close your eyes, and you don't know who you are anymore?
Now it's Sunday, or Tuesday, or Saturday.
Instead, I go ahead without looking at the sky because the turbid water slows down the arrival.
I am in East Berlin and the only one offering me something illegal is Italian, go figure, while everyone looks like their are keeping up with the night just with chestnuts beer.
I am in East Berlin and the only one offering me something illegal is Italian, go figure, while everyone looks like their are keeping up with the night just with chestnuts beer.
Outside there's a floating wooden platform lightened by the red kisses of the lamps hanging from the trees, while inside there's a vibrating closet where you can sweat until your muscles keep up. At the end, a Sicilian guy ready to soak up your hunger with a pizza that makes you homesick.
Maybe it's true because someone has the attitude and the moves of someone who combed his hair about two days ago to get ready for the night, but I wouldn't be able to tell.
Sure thing is that it sounds like the noise of our boat full of mosquitoes and electric air that is the Gamma, but more for the water than for the music, which here commits itself to the insomniac and eager ones.
Who would have ever thought that, in a city that developed its scene thanks to the occupation of empty places, decadent and free?
I dance, sweat and don't think about it.
Who would have ever thought that, in a city that developed its scene thanks to the occupation of empty places, decadent and free?
I dance, sweat and don't think about it.
Among people who forgot their names, small boats docked without permission and deep house records hanging between the masts I realize we are on the verge, me and anyone around me who is keeping the pace.
As if we were in a stretched up interzone, somewhere else.
A place where you can dream while being awake. Or hanging from the pauses between the records, the only calendar that everyone pays attention to.
As if we were in a stretched up interzone, somewhere else.
A place where you can dream while being awake. Or hanging from the pauses between the records, the only calendar that everyone pays attention to.