William Burroughs would’ve loved this town. Walking around the area of Kottbusser Tor, I think sometimes I’ve walked right into Naked Lunch. It’s got the obscenity, the freaks, the superfreaks, the rain-streaked bleakness, junkies, literate junkies, stupid junkies, romantic junkies and the cornucopia of psychotropic offerings to support them, each user his own self-proclaimed prophet of ancient apocalyptic wisdom. Today riding the subway line U8, the north-south one bisecting central Berlin, I was reading a book. When the train arrived at Hermannplatz, a blond-haired man in his 40s, wearing a rough wool sweater matching his hair in colour and dishevelled-ness, got on and plopped down at my right. He smelled about seven days away from his last shower, which wasn’t terrible, but was noticeable. About the time he saw I was reading a book, in English, he said, “Guck!” (Look!), propped his left leg on his right one and pulled up the pant leg to expose the inner calf. In freshly razor-carved block letters was written “GOD IS A JEW ♥” The cuts were still healing. He seemed pretty proud of it. He pulled down his sock to show me the heart. I smiled thinly in acknowledgement, but couldn’t think of anything to say, anything at all. And I usually have something to say for most situations. I went back to my book, though I couldn’t really concentrate on reading.

Stumble it!