Easy...

The first point of order was to check in, to snap ourselves to life with pixie dust and then move through the city, everything, to eat it and consume Berlin. I had seen good bits of it but not enough. I told him we were going to go through my process, the way I take on a new city before the story can arrive. We walked and he bitched. We listened to people on the streets, watched the way they moved, observed their manners, the way they looked at us as we passed. Everyone looks at us as we pass. We are a hurricane on four legs, just moving. When Durban got cold, we stopped for a drink somewhere pretty and then moved on. When we got hungry, we stopped at an Italian place off Charlottenstrasse because John said look they've got big candles. There we drank wine and ate and met the owner of the joint and Durban just talked and talked with the guy. Endlessly. When I look in John's eyes, I can see inside him...know with certainty I am looking into a maniac. There is no other way to put it. John Durban is a maniac. He's unstable and moving and distrusting and brimming with acid. Often, I wonder what others see. I'm not sure why we work but we do, maybe because I see light in him where others see darkness. There is light, I'm sure of it, whether he will admit it or not.

From dinner, we moved. Bar to bar, stop to stop - every subway and stop in Mitte and beyond. We got cold often and stopped to drink often, talking the world, our next play, chasing beer with whiskey. Once we were walking straight, Durban began to get in the mood to grab a gal. He asked me if I wanted to wing him, spoke of the girls in Berlin to be all beautiful, something in their eyes. We met pair after pair starting sometime around midnight. Thing about Durban is that he's very discriminate, meaning that if he picks a pair, they're going to be worth it - at least superficially. For me the process is easy. Durban takes care of everything really, the approach and all that then comes. At some point, he looks to me and finds out which one I prefer and then takes the other...because 99 percent of the time, it doesn't matter to John. We're both particular but in a lot of surprising ways, I am more so...because I don't have an addiction like John. I don't need to have it, sex doesn't rule me like it does him. Last night, something was going on. John was having problems. He's been having problems ever since what happened happened - one foot in if at all. It meant that right out of the chute, we met two crazy young Berliners, 19 and 21 and taut and fiery. John pretended he was an American boy and they fell in love with us and I didn't need it but the older of the two took my hand and kissed my cheek for no reason and made me want her terribly. I was ready to leave, to see their apartment and her bed when I looked to John and saw him pulling back, walking out of the bar. I followed him and told my Girl I'd be back - because she had won me. John was walking fast and away down the street. When I caught his steps, he started spitting exactly they weren't right...not for me not for you. Then he said don't worry Burn I'll take care of you I'll take care of you.

We moved on and around, beer and shot, beer and shot, meeting girls meeting girls. Dozens of girls. Every time we approached we'd win them. Every time, like whatever we are and whatever we project together is impossible to resist. It just happens. It got stale for me real quick. I couldn't stop thinking about the Girl I left behind, the first girl. If I fall in a night...which I rarely do and realized I might have, there is no chance I'm going to fall again. After the 3rd pair, we were just going through motions. John would bark and I would be quiet and precious and sweet and they would do anything to take us around, to show us their town...anything we wanted. At the exact point, for seriously 6 pairs, John would bail and walk out of the bar, storming even, and I would excuse myself and catch up with him and say something like you know there's obviously some poison shit going on inside of you right now. He told me he knew and that was all he said, all that needed to be said. We were drunk, fucking drunk and it was after 3. My skull was pounding and my heart was failing and I felt like everything I had left was about to drain. I told Durban that I was going to bail on him...knowing it was what he needed. He stopped, stood in the middle of the street and started turning in the darkness, blowing breath from out of his insides, so amused by it...seeing his steam escape. Then he said exactly, alright Burn alright...I'll be on tomorrow. Then he turned and walked away into the darkness.

UPDATE ------> DURBAN SPEAKS, LINK RIGHT