A Cautious Rendezvous
I absentmindedly look at the screen of my phone, while the ventilation of the theater’s entrance hall embraces me in a welcoming warm breeze. It is freezing outside, yet the sun enlightens every corner of the city. If it weren’t so cold, one could confuse this bright afternoon for the most beautiful summer’s day; in fact, before entering the venue I paused for a few minutes, despite the frosty air surrounding me, closed my eyes, faced the sun, and relished the soft sunrays that filled my pores with transcendent energy. I could smell the and feel the life around me, moving from here to there, always in motion; the loud signs of traffic, the cars, the trucks, the cabs, and the distant sirens signaling a secluded emergency; the chatter of people, traversing every nook and cranny of the busy city, in a constant hurry to get from one place to the next, oblivious to their vivid surroundings; the birds way up in the clear blue sky, celebrating the light of the sun, a gift they cannot comprehend, but appreciate nonetheless, more so than their human counterparts upon which they look down, probably with disgust or rather pity, for they sense their superior notion of mother nature.
I absentmindedly glance at the screen of my phone, as I enter the restroom of the theatre and am greeted by the same despicable man as two days prior, who asked every foreigner to pay him upfront in order to use his clean lavatory, exploiting their lack to communicate properly and eliminating any chance of a grateful gesture. I wash my hands and disgustedly leave without giving him a penny. I realize that the entrance hall is not nearly as crowded as for the last screening I attended in this theatre, which is understandable, considering the film’s premise of a 15 year old prostitute and her friends that aim to dissociate themselves from an alienated society through group sex. A Japanese pink movie from the early seventies might not be the most tempting film for most people, and even I merely ended up here since I had a lot of spare time between my other screenings today, one of which I had already canceled due to my lack of sleep and the resulting act of surrender while I dreamily lay on my friend’s coach, softly tucked away beneath my blanket and unable to forcefully tear my tired eyes open.
I absentmindedly stare at the screen of my phone, as I slowly progress to the back of the line or rather the small group of people that somehow found their way to this venue to indulge in the wild fantasies of an unknown and faraway world. As I look up I seem to recognize a familiar face, although I resist to believe that it is anything but that, for it must be impossible to meet someone you happen to know in this particular place, hundreds of miles from home and for a screening so far out of the ordinary, yet here we are. Dazzled by this sudden change of events, I stagger on to the end of the line as planned and stay there to recollect my thoughts, still haven’t decided whether or not it can truly be a remembrance of home. Be it as it may, I am not able to place a name to his face, which is why I decide to sit tight for now and see what happens, to take things as they come.
The gates open and the small gathering streams into the cinema hall like sperm urgently racing to the uterus. My eyes are still fixed on this alien body, this apparition, disturbing the regular flow of events with its mere presence. I choose to trace its tracks and, oblivious to my own mind that orders my legs to put one foot in front of the other, I end up seated next to it.
We pretend no to notice each other as the hall slowly fills up, people seat themselves in their desired locations, the lights go off and the film starts to roll. I frantically grab my backpack and reach for my earplugs as the first sound of music appears. A woman in front of me stands up, looks around confusedly, sits down again, stands up, sits down, stands up, and sits down a final time, ultimately realizing her inability to change the piercing sound of the film. Bewildered, she turns to her friends to ask whether their ears have already fallen off, her head spinning around, desperately looking for an answer to her suffering. Finally, she reaches into her purse, pulls out some piece of paper, rips parts of it off, scrambles it up into tiny paper-balls and plugs them into her ears with a look of relief on her face.
A relief that I share with her, as my gaze is no longer occupied by her struggle to safe her ears, but instead is turned towards the screen to fully enjoy a miraculous piece of art, one that in itself ends on a terrifying note, but outside of the cinematic realm starts with my nearly forgotten neighbor to my left recognizing me.
‘Oh, hey, is that really you?’
‘Well, yes it is’, I try to act all nonchalantly. ‘How are you? I haven’t seen you in a while. Are you here as an accredited student?’
‘Yeah, but I transferred to Frankfurt recently. For how long are you visiting the festival?
‘Oh, I’ve been here for its entire duration and I’ll probably be leaving the day after it ends. How about you?’
‘The entire duration? That must be expensive! I’m merely visiting for three days.’
‘Well, I’m staying at a friend’s apartment, sleeping their on his couch, and since the festival is always right around my birthday, I’m able to finance it that way.’
‘Lucky you!’
We throw on our jackets and head for the exit. I quickly turn for the restroom again, not paying any attention to the maintenance man, empty my urethra, wash my hands and step outside the venue. He, his friends, and I are gathered in a circle, discussing the odd experience of a film that we have just watched, exchange more small-talk, before parting ways again. The sun is still shining down on Berlin, making them seem like distant silhouettes vanishing into a bright wall of light.
I stare at the screen of my phone, as I remain alone in front of the theater, enjoying the warm rays of sun amidst the freezing cold while I make plans of where to go next. I am to meet up with an old American friend of mine, so I ask my phone to show me the way; and it does. I look up, consciously breath in the fresh air one final time before I head to the nearest subway, guided by the loyalty of my technological companion.
© Tim SifrinGeschichte vom März: The Greatest
Geschichte vom Mai: The Dare