Hannah G

Can you believe I've been buying pomegranates on Maybachufer for a decade

exigeante

before travelling back to LDN I feel its anxious arm lurch towards me

I associate purple plums with la rentrée

keep in mind: ocean at eyeline

Everything after Fanny

the transformation of sadness and depression into courage, letting go, and right action

distant thunder in early morning, heard in half-awake state as the beginnings of air strikes in response to the depravity of Merz within Europe

high potential for transference with movement instructors because of endorphins released via class

the home language of illness (a slip for ‘English’) needs to leave my body, too

falling peony petals reading each a copy of Recognition by Andrea Brady given by Lizzie

the chef is beginning his preparations

Maxis, ”Berlin hört nicht auf, zu Ende zu gehen.” (2025) @weakanalogy.bsky.social // me on Berlin’s perpetual over-ness (2019)

surround-sound hum of May Day Berlin from fifth-floor desk: circling helicopter, live trumpet, raucous kids, ripples of laughter-chatter, chirping birds, bass speakers, siren swirl

fine fingernail moon to coincide with my rejuvenation

🤍

the way in which the receptionist – witnessing me mid-panic attack, short on air – kept repeating: Gesundheitskarte. Gesundheitskarte.

editing Hilton Als on a Friday

meteopatica returns to northern europe

At our stop, in giddying contrast to northern europe, rushing to kiss everyone in the group on at least one cheek before the doors would close

@weakanalogy.bsky.social: “From appetite to desire, the problem of the snack is figuring out what to embody and what to objectify in a world that burns you out like a simple carb.“

reading stack at Asa’s: Chris Kraus’s Aliens & Anorexia (unbelievably, have never dared to read); Maxi’s snacks; Gary Indiana on sumo wrestling – ‘Deep Fat’

progesterone is the precursor to my ”how to stay grounded without getting buried” part of the cycle

Man City vs. PSG: my roots vs. my finishing school (cannot now support either)

notes + dreams

Don Cherry’s New Researches’ Ganesh cycling in my head since the beginning of 2025: “they don’t smile so much in the north”

winter = death

It often feels like world’s end at the year’s end in Berlin, amid the firework warfare and its collateral detritus; this year, with us and other residents asking at the café-bar if they still have running water – cut in many central districts over dinnertime – more than most

lost a lens during Nick Cave‘s The Weeping Song in the soundtrack to Nan Goldin‘s Sisters, Saints, and Sibyls – naturellement

the holiday dislodging of days