The First

The white powder squeaks under my boots as Mandy and I run for the tram. Little perfect flakes fall into our hair, and the tracks look magical covered in the bleached dust. We’re smiling to every face that meets our eyes and Bob Sinclair’s “Love Generation” pumps through our ears, sending a giddy electricity through our core. The year is off to a good start. Skipping along, buzzing… glowing… dreaming. It’s just another day, but there’s new beginnings hanging in the air and a hope that floods us both. Faith that the following 365 days will only bring more love and adventure and change than the last. Knowledge of the unknown, hope for the hopeless and disregard for the fear.

A meal shared amongst friends, people I’ve met in different pockets of the world, somehow re-united in a city unknown to me… Berlin. There’s people squished into every corner of the room, couches strewn around and food flowing freely. It’s gift economy here: you drink and eat to contentment, then pay what you find to be its worth. Except that I don’t think anyone left that night feeling like the few euro’s they’d laid down could account for what they’d gained. How do you pay for gezellig? There isn’t even an english word, let alone an english currency! 

The night previous was spent in -10 degrees, barefoot and dancing (indoors!)… drinking just enough beers to not feel the cold once outside. At 11.30 the crew spread they’re wings and floated into the snow, watching the fireworks and hugging each-other in rounds. After 5 years of bringing in the January with a hot Aussie festival, it couldn’t have been any more of a contrast… nor any more perfect. Mandy and I, glancing at each other eyes sparkling, we’re taken back to last year’s heat and can’t help seeing how far we’ve come. This same person was standing next to me  exactly one year ago, on the other side of the world, and we loved each other as much then as we do now. What will the next one bring… Sipping hot red wine and singing shouts to the stars, it was a Sylvester’s to remember.

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