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In this secret city garden, near our open floor-planned office but away from its din, where occasionally I escape to efficiently consume lunch in the closest thing to silence I can find, I relax. On a bench adjacent mine, another laborer rests.

After a week riding on a relaxing, reliable, spacious subway system in Berlin, I've asserted my way on to a cramped and chaotic J Train in Brooklyn, heading from Bed-Stuy to the corporate office. 

Yuan's in the other room, asleep.

I'm up but out of it, having got to bed at 3am, consequently wide awake at 7am. I'm never awake so early.

I like that the huge icon of the aircraft, larger than the entirety of the UK if not most of the European continent on this map, has arced a thin white line across the screen, grossly simplifying all that has occured within the past workday's worth of hours we've spent on this

My first thought when I saw the feet on the chair was "definitely American."

Teresa, who's really into tuberculosis, created the majority my itinerary in Berlin, where she's living and working on a Ph.D in immunology. 

Perhaps there coincidentally, perhaps connected, a broken beer botte by a rear wheel backed up on to a curb.

Cheer and joy attempt to pour through the Berghain roof, to seep down and shine into the dark and canvernous, debaucherous and throbbing fogged halls of this techno temple.

Alas, German engineering; there are no cracks in the ceiling through which to sluice.

I asked past Couchsurfers of German origins and/or residences if they could share advice on Berlin. One of them sent a sibling.

This is Max, brother to Anna, who crashed with her friend at my place in Brooklyn for five nights last year.

Lisa is a friend I met in NYC. She's a DJ, big on techno. And thus Berlin was her home long before she moved here. We met up near her apartment, then wandered the area before heading to Trödler.