I’m writing my farewell post to readers of Die Bärliner not from Berlin, but from a country road in upstate New York. Already situated in a new environment, I’ve spent the last few weeks wondering how to wish the blog farewell. I’d almost psyched myself out of the whole thing until I curiously drove past
Living on campus on the first floor of Treskowstrasse 25 (or in affectionate shorthand, T25) is an exercise in constant human interaction, in which the concept of privacy does not really exist. The bathroom is usually the only unoccupied space in the apartment, and my flatmates have found me more than once sitting on the
It was like a dream, so many of my favorite authors covered the tops of the front tables. I no longer had to search longingly for their names, instead, they were displayed front and center. Ursula Le Guin, Ocean Vuong, Octavia E. Butler, and so many other authors who use their voice to explore societal
Every Sunday, and every day between 22:00 and 6:00, Berlin is peacefully quiet, or is at least supposed to be, yet sounds remain. Some recklessly, and some with permission. Construction halts, but the birds step in to fill the empty sonic space. Trams hum. Outside my window voices carry on. I wake up many a
I only ever knew Clare Wigfall’s work on paper, so seeing my former creative writing professor read a story, microphone in hand, lit up in the far corner of the lowered stage, I was struck by the realization that creating a story could exist outside of just writing one. “What makes a story?” I thought,
Berlin is fondly known for its thriving international culture amid traditional German establishments. Moving here two years ago, I knew I would be able to find books in English, but it took me a while to feel out Berlin’s literary scene well enough to know where to wander for a book that would interest me.
“We walk in the shadows in giants,” I tell my friend Laila, before realizing that this isn’t the phrase. It’s ‘stand on the shoulders of giants,’ isn’t it? I don’t think they noticed. Either way, the accidental adaptation is a fitting one for what we’ve just witnessed—a multi-media spoken word event in which the two
During a niveous day of winter break, my friend from BCB, experienced racism at a bar in Berlin. Let’s pseudonymously call my friend Sam. Sam told me that they were out with a friend touring the city when they decided to stop by a bar for a beer. So stop they did, in a bar