quinta-feira, 22 de novembro de 2012

Midnight in Berlin

It was autumn night in Berlin, when an old Chevy stopped in front of Rosa Luxemburg Platz and someone invited me to come inside. I can't explain why, but I wasn't afraid. I entered the car and it suddenly took me somewhere in the early 50s. When I opened my eyes, I was in a cozy club, with a small stage where the musicians were playing their new kind of music. The place had the colours of a Hopper painting. There, at the counter, I saw Billie Holiday asking for something to drink. At the other side, Nina Simone was chating with Miles Davis, while Ray Charles Robinson was alone on a corner table, smoking a cigarette, watching piano notes dancing with the smoke.

Mr. Otis Redding invited me to dance after offering me a drink. I asked for a Veuve Clicquot, but he said: "sorry, babe, I can't afford it to you now, but I'll buy this full of love beer", and then he took me to the dance floor with his heart just close to mine. We kept dancing on the dock of the bay, just wasting time. I closed my eyes and we were back to our home in the Deep South, back to our white fence house. Daydreaming. I knew the car would come back to pick me up. So I just stayed there, queen of my private dance floor, shooting my own poetry film made by fantasy, music and love.

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