I am witnessing.
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The visual messages switching my new-comer Kölner citizen mind on. Witty, taking it with a pitch of salt, making guerilla interventions and inviting silly dances. Messy, curious, alive.
I feel seen and recognized.
My skin melts.
Ribs as fingers expand to touch, lean on and embrace.
The rhythm of my throbbing arteries is welcome to form an alternative line in all-city-jazz.
Here dwells my private empowering space.
At last.
