She was pedaling on Torstrasse. Rusty red bike. White dress dotted in daisies. It flounced around her thighs. Hair a curtain of blond. Beneath it: red hooded capelet.
A Rotkäppchen-Goldilocks lovechild, smack in the middle of Mitte. And I'd forgotten to pack my digi.
Damn.
Then: Tall woman, clad in black. Fat camera (of my dreams). Approached Grimm Girl. "Can I take your photo?" I heard her say. "I'm with Stil in Berlin."
Damn.
My new Bayreuthian Oberholz buddy had told me about the website after I launched Look des Tages. Exclusively fashion, of course. None of Lilan's Berliner witticisms, nor gripping personal tales (ahem).
I locked my bike to a railing. Tall woman kept talking. Goldi tilted her head. Her face was closed.
I crossed the street. Shoulders fallen. A Shit Fairy perched on each. What's the point. Nothing I do is original. Why am I even blogging. No one is seeing.
I looked back. Tall woman crossed the street. Shoulders fallen. Goldi rolled away.
I was going to keep going. Cozy in my Shit Fairy self-pity. But Robert Frost elbowed his way into my ear. "Freedom lies in being BOLD," he intoned.
A quote I'd pasted above my desk in Brooklyn.
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