Last night in Berlin we were in a proper church deep in the East. I asked them to cover JC, who was suffering right behind Graham on drums. The pastor doesn't like JC to be covered, so we had to wait until he left - the pastor, that is. Apparently, it's the place where Arvo Part loves to have his stuff performed. I suspect the echoey sound would be more appropriate for his music than some of mine, though most folks enjoyed it greatly.
In the afternoon I did go for a run in Tiergarten, but Colin Powell, he of the evil empire, was staying at the Intercontinental, so many Berlin roads were closed and polizei and armed riot police were everywhere - bored and taking the sun and reading newspapers and drinking coffees.
It meant I had to run a very circuitous route, but the weather was perfect.
I have a dream that lower Manhattan has been hit by a nuclear device; it has already happened and Mauro was safe, as we were in midtown or something and now we are heading further uptown, away from the epicenter. From a high rocky point we can see the traffic snarled on the bridges. I see some birds flying round this high rocky area near the northern tip of Manhattan. But as they draw nearer I can see that they're actually Perodactyl's, gliding with very little effort on the updrafts near these rocks. I point them out to Mauro. Somehow the instant revival of prehistoric life seems perfectly natural.
Mauro says he thinks he will go to Egypt, which seems like an odd but interesting choice. I had been thinking only to get away from the spreading radioactive cloud. I am missing my backpack - my identity in a sense - and mull over the possibility of going south to retrieve it - but it might be dangerous to do so.
As we clamber down to the waters edge we run into some of the string section as they emerge from a the greenish fog that envelopes the southern part of the island. Some of them are casually smoking cigarettes as they walk north along the waters edge.