I am sitting on a bench on the rooftop of Bikini Berlin. It is 11:07 AM. I am slightly anxious. There is no one around me. The tables and chairs that used to be on the plaza at the end of the rooftop when I came here a few times during summer to enjoy a calm moment had disappeared.  
Just like on the walk on my last day in Ulm I am slightly sad [or disappointed?] that I didn’t take my camera — I would have loved to capture the calming, comforting emptiness that soothes my mind on this sunny late early October morning.

I haven’t been very present lately. Ever since I am back from my trip to Ulm, back to my normal life after a week of disconnecting. [What is even normal?]

The reason why I haven’t been present? A plethora of thoughts swirling through my mind, refusing to disappear, or at least to get in order. Thoughts related to ideas I gathered, wrote down and summarized since I started working on Why don’t you start to fall in love with where you are RIGHT NOW?

I’ve been knowing the remedy for the past ~2 weeks: simply start.

I thought I did. By making plans how and when to start executing which ideas. What limits to set myself to avoid overthinking. None of this made me be more present. Because planning how and when to do something is not doing it.

A few people, presumably tourists, are passing by. Leaving and entering the 25hours Hotel next to me. The sun is shining right at me. I need to take off my fleece zipper that I thought would be necessary to wear since the temperature dropped to 6 °C last night when I went out to film.

A woman, about 50 years old, camera around her neck, looking exactly like you would expect a 50-year-old Central European tourist walking around Ku’damm to look like, entered the plaza. She stops, looks around briefly, turns, and leaves. I imagine she left because there is nothing to see here.

Which is exactly why I chose this spot to write. I’ve been sitting here for almost an hour now and except for the occasional hotel guests coming and leaving, there hasn’t been anyone. It is hard to believe that there is no one on a beautiful day like today, in one of the most touristy and crowded areas of West Berlin. It feels dreamlike. It feels not normal. [What is even normal?]

Two days ago, I experienced a similar situation. I was on my way to BAUHAUS to buy boxes to archive 40 Nights in Toronto artworks, notes, and other paraphernalia I used during the creation process. I took the subway from Rathaus Steglitz for two stops and got off at Walther-Schreiber-Platz. I rarely do, since it is only about 20 minutes walking distance from home. On that day, however, I had a lot on my to-do list and wanted to be quick and efficient.

When I left the subway station, I had to pass through the Schlossstraßen-Center. At first glance arguably the most uninteresting mall out of the four on Schlossstraße. As I reached the ground floor, I only briefly looked at the empty storefronts. My eyes already toward the exit, I noticed for the first time that the escalators going all the way up for three more floors were running. It surprised me — I had assumed the upper levels were closed, given the state of the ground floor with no open shop in sight.

I turned around and rode up. Calming, comforting emptiness.

Why don’t you start to fall in love with where You are RIGHT NOW?

glg Soda Paapi

PS: I haven’t just been archiving 40 Nights in Toronto artworks, notes, etc. lately. I’ve also been clearing my mind of old ideas that were still lingering, obscuring my vision for Why don’t you…? One of these ideas was 40 NiT [only synths]. To honor a time when I reduced to the point of discomfort, and eventually felt at my best, I did something similar to 40 Nights in Toronto. [Those who visited the 40 Nights in Toronto release exhibition may recognize the visuals.]

40 NiT [only synths]

I am sitting on a bench on the rooftop of Bikini Berlin. It is 11:07 AM. I am slightly anxious. There is no one around me. The tables and chairs that used to be on the plaza at the end of the rooftop when I came here a few times during summer to enjoy a calm moment had disappeared.  
Just like on the walk on my last day in Ulm I am slightly sad [or disappointed?] that I didn’t take my camera — I would have loved to capture the calming, comforting emptiness that soothes my mind on this sunny late early October morning.

I haven’t been very present lately. Ever since I am back from my trip to Ulm, back to my normal life after a week of disconnecting. [What is even normal?]

The reason why I haven’t been present? A plethora of thoughts swirling through my mind, refusing to disappear, or at least to get in order. Thoughts related to ideas I gathered, wrote down and summarized since I started working on Why don’t you start to fall in love with where you are RIGHT NOW?

I’ve been knowing the remedy for the past ~2 weeks: simply start.

I thought I did. By making plans how and when to start executing which ideas. What limits to set myself to avoid overthinking. None of this made me be more present. Because planning how and when to do something is not doing it.

A few people, presumably tourists, are passing by. Leaving and entering the 25hours Hotel next to me. The sun is shining right at me. I need to take off my fleece zipper that I thought would be necessary to wear since the temperature dropped to 6 °C last night when I went out to film.

A woman, about 50 years old, camera around her neck, looking exactly like you would expect a 50-year-old Central European tourist walking around Ku’damm to look like, entered the plaza. She stops, looks around briefly, turns, and leaves. I imagine she left because there is nothing to see here.

Which is exactly why I chose this spot to write. I’ve been sitting here for almost an hour now and except for the occasional hotel guests coming and leaving, there hasn’t been anyone. It is hard to believe that there is no one on a beautiful day like today, in one of the most touristy and crowded areas of West Berlin. It feels dreamlike. It feels not normal. [What is even normal?]

Two days ago, I experienced a similar situation. I was on my way to BAUHAUS to buy boxes to archive 40 Nights in Toronto artworks, notes, and other paraphernalia I used during the creation process. I took the subway from Rathaus Steglitz for two stops and got off at Walther-Schreiber-Platz. I rarely do, since it is only about 20 minutes walking distance from home. On that day, however, I had a lot on my to-do list and wanted to be quick and efficient.

When I left the subway station, I had to pass through the Schlossstraßen-Center. At first glance arguably the most uninteresting mall out of the four on Schlossstraße. As I reached the ground floor, I only briefly looked at the empty storefronts. My eyes already toward the exit, I noticed for the first time that the escalators going all the way up for three more floors were running. It surprised me — I had assumed the upper levels were closed, given the state of the ground floor with no open shop in sight.

I turned around and rode up. Calming, comforting emptiness.

Why don’t you start to fall in love with where You are RIGHT NOW?

glg Soda Paapi

PS: I haven’t just been archiving 40 Nights in Toronto artworks, notes, etc. lately. I’ve also been clearing my mind of old ideas that were still lingering, obscuring my vision for Why don’t you…? One of these ideas was 40 NiT [only synths]. To honor a time when I reduced to the point of discomfort, and eventually felt at my best, I did something similar to 40 Nights in Toronto. [Those who visited the 40 Nights in Toronto release exhibition may recognize the visuals.]

40 NiT [only synths]