We could not find a blade of ice, this time in Berlin, and no lunar magic, then, but on clear days and long, a lot of things to do.
on Karl Marx Allee, queuing for cinema tickets, I had plenty of time to poison me by a wave of melancholy that I was partly brought from home and in part was blowing directly from the gray Soviet surrounding
Conquered the much coveted tickets (almost could not believe it), by now in search of records: I have bought back the first two vinyl legendary B-52's and luckily I found the old qdisc with gatefold cover of Bowie singing Brecht.
In Oranienstraße area, except for the guy who lost his pants and burst out laughing alone on a regular basis, there were no significant eccentricity and the whole area has been distinguished for the unusual clarity.
Friday, busy day. Immediately DHM for the exhibition Hitler and the Germans, or the propaganda is all: turn the tables on reality, telling people what the people want to hear, give shape to the ghosts. Among the many documents on display, particularly interesting everyday objects decorated with Nazi symbols - which implicitly testify trade that flourished around the campaigning -, and, of these, especially noteworthy ancestor of an incredible picture disc, a 78's patriotic hymn on which was imprinted with the image Hitler.
Show crowded, many of these visitors of all ages, including students engaged in the resolution of questionnaires under the eyes of young teachers (a sort of check-in-progress).
The bluesman find some real gem, we remain perhaps more than expected, then there is just enough time to return to the hotel and try to make us presentable for La Traviata.
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