On WarschauerStraße bridge in Berlin. Those summer nights when I got off the U1 and went to Friedrichshein, doesn’t matter why, I just had to go, for whatever, I stood up on the bridge and looked to the train tracks, opposite direction to the O2 World; I looked at the vanishing point sinking and expanding in the warm lights of the lampposts where some workers of the BVG or goods wagons prepared the carriages, they parked them and leaped from track to track on a smooth transition. Or in winter, when the snow fell on the train lines that were getting smaller near the horizon, where the snowflakes weigh down and time to time a gust of wind took them away to the RAW. The light illuminated worms came and drove away under me; I was almost not noticing the people walking busy, drunk, shouting; no, I wasn’t acknowledging them. I thought, pondered. What? many things, traveling in time and space in memories and emotions, actions; made things, and not made, what I’ll do and what I won’t, if will happen. I think and I believe that is good to have a place where everyone feels good, where you can stir your mind and imagine. A place for reflection. Warschauerstraße was my place.
I like the fire; it is intense, hot, burns if you get close, watching at the flames you get lost. I like the boiler room. It was my quiet place, a place of reflection. Where after work I spent a while igniting the fire of this monstrous boiler of about 200 litres so, that the house had hot water. Put some little thin dry branches in, then a few trunks, a bit thicker, predominantly pine – which is why, when it was lit up, blew and jumped little devils out-. I let it burning and waited a few minutes drinking beer, looking outside the window, listening, thinking, smoking. This time on one thing in particular: Why the things are called as they are called? What if the “shoes” instead of being called “shoes” are called “happy”; and “money”, instead of being called “money” is called “love”. -Hey Maria! Look at that “happy” I’ve bought, cost me a lot of “love” -for example-. Or with ourselves: What would happen if you were not called as you are called? Would it have affected your life? Your current situation? If we were called different as we are called now, we would be different persons. Thru your childhood to now your name has been an important factor to make an image of you linked to your person. If you’ve had an incredible experience with someone, with a particular name, you’ll like this name throughout life, regardless who you have in front, you will associate that name with that time and space. You’ll have a very good impression of someone, of something, of anything, just with a word.
In Măgura I had a name for every day of the week. On Monday Giovanni; John, on Tuesday; Jor, on Wednesday; Thursday,
Jordan; On Friday Garcia; Saturday Margalescu and on Sunday almost all together! “Ei Giovani! Acolo, acolo” – Gica said – and I was bringing the wood beams there. “John! Unde te duci?” “I go and get the shovel” – I answered Milu-. When they called me Giovanni, I told them: “Noooo! I am Jooohn”. And when they called me Margalescu I started dancing to the sound of the music that was being played at the radio (if you wanna listen to it, just click at this link and put the episode 05: http://nosolotravelchronicles.com/the-lamp/) making the fingers snap with the arms raised and moving the legs interlacing them between themselves and occasionally clapping the hand with the foot. Hahaaaa, happy days.
You can call me Ug.