If you live in Berlin you know this city is full of (wannabe) artists seeking some sort of recognition through the public display of their (wannabe) art. There’s a little bit of everything: there’s talented inspired human beings and there’s hopeless clueless amateurs; there’s unmissable live acts, serious posh galleries and shoes you randomly find on the ground. The art scene is so alive and kicking that after a while you start feeling those kicks less and less, ’till it all just seems part of the big Berlin show.
In Edinburgh, on the contrary, the atmosphere used to be quite different. Read More
When he told me “think of a card”, clubs popped up in my brain. Spades looked too violent, in that moment, and hearts too cheesy. Diamonds seemed fine but maybe pretentious. I answered like I was answering those questions at a job interview and the theater was an office and the audience was human resources and I really needed that job. So clubs. And number ten just seemed a full, perfect, round number of clubs to hold in your hand. “Now close your eyes”, he said, “and focus on the card you chose”. I didn’t want to fail him, and tried to focus on that card with all of my will, although his voice distracted me and pushed my mind to places where it didn’t want to be. “Can you please remove your left shoe now?”. Why didn’t he ask me to remove my bra, instead? He could put my problems in some magic cabinet and make them disappear. The weight in excess, the blabbering, the annoying relatives, the loneliness. Abracadabra: all gone. I opened my eyes and took off my left shoe, inside of which was lying that ten of clubs i was obsessing about. Surprise, audience moaning, huge applause. “Thank you, you can go back in the audience and keep the card, if you wish”.