Er, hello. We’d like to take a look at the inside of this building, is that alright?

Er, no. Visitors are not allowed.

Oh okay. Ugh. And we’d really love to take a look.

I’m sorry. Sorry about that. It’s just that we do not allow visitors, sorry.

It’s fine, it’s fine.

*Turns to go*

I think we have to go. Go check out other buildings.

Er wait, by the way I’m pretty pressed and I’d like to ease myself. Is there a bathroom close by I can make use of?

Oh sure. Just go down this hallway.


It’s at the end by the left.

Ah great, thanks!


We are in the building. For some reason we’re not allowed entry if we’re here for sightseeing, but it’s perfectly fine if we want to use the bathroom. Haha.

This was what I used to dream my university building would look like. Arches and apses and grey mossy stone and gargoyles. Haha.

Some man is walking by. He walks with the air of an instructor. He is probably a lecturer in this place. I stop kissing you and squeezing your ass and generally behave myself while he passes by.


We’re done at the bathroom. There’s graffiti like everywhere.

Oh there’s another door that leads outside from here.

Ah great.

Stadtbad Neukölln.

Life is extremely stressful right now.

Life is extremely stressful.

I spent last night communicating via email with the customer service of some telecommunications company in the USA. They have been meticulously effectuating  monthly debits to my Bank of America account.

I have not used their phone in months. But in spite of that, I keep getting their pestilential debits.

There is barely any money in my account. I had to borrow fifty euros from my Argentine flatmate a few weeks ago to get some groceries, while I awaited the arrival of some funds from the HQ in the USA.

Things are tight. Things are pretty tight.

And yet in spite of that, these telecoms people are making unfailing deductions from my already gaunt bank account.

Usually I’m calm and polite when communicating with Customer Service representatives.

I have never used exclamation marks. Or umbrage-inspired pervasive capitalization.

That was until last night.



Life is extremely stressful right now.

Berlin is annoying me. This neighbourhood is so quiet. After a year, I had gotten used to the bustle of Nob Hill. The periodic ringing of the cable cars, and the occasional skateboarder power-sliding down California street. Now the quiet of North-Eastern Kreuzberg feels more like deafness than tranquility.

Some of the roads are also not the best for skateboarding. A guy called out to me at Kottbuser Tor, and expressed his displeasure at this same situation. 

“You’re holding your skateboard in your hand all the time because you can’t really ride it here, its so frustrating”

I definitely saw what he was saying.

A number of major roads are pretty good though- smooth enough. Smooth enough.

I am still trying to get used to this place.

I need to go swimming.

I recently learnt that “swimming pool” in German is “Stadtbad”. I learnt that from looking for proximate swimming pools online.

I found one that seems cool. It’s at Neukölln. Stadtbad Neukölln.

I pick up my swimming trunks which I bought from a roadside trader while in university in Nigeria. I fetch the idle swimming goggles I stole from the poolside at a YMCA in San Francisco.

Time to get to the Stadtbad.

I head out the door while I engage in a cognitive struggle with the worries and pains and anxieties of the romantic relationship I am in, with the perplexities of my current situation and uncertainties of my future in the backdrop.

I am skateboarding down Karl-Marx Straße. I think this is where Google Maps says I need to turn left. I walk up to a woman seated on a chair in a space by the road that looks like an open air cafe with patio umbrellas. I explain that I am trying to get to Stadtbad Neukölln. With a smile, she points me in the right direction. I give her my appreciation.



I am at the pool. It’s an interesting place. Very large hall. The turnstiles at the entrance to the pool almost make me feel like I am at a subway station.

Grey concrete walls. Neoclassical architecture. Extremely interesting environment.

My Chinese GoPro clone is at the end of the hall. I think I’ll do some normal swimming before bringing the camera into the pool.

I swim.

Some weird German guy looks like he’s trying to impress me with his butterfly stroke. He swims over and begins to chat me up, with a sheepish grin on his face. Oh yeah he was definitely trying to impress me with his butterfly.

It was impressive though, it was. It looked really powerful and elegant.

I need to learn that stroke. I have been meaning to learn it for a while. I respond very dismissively to the weird German guy.

I keep swimming.

I’ve brought the “GoPro” into the pool. I am taking underwater pictures and making videos. I am enjoying myself.




I am at the bathroom. Taking a shower. Weird German guy materializes from God-knows-where. Tries fondling my nipples.

I get pissed. I get very pissed, and I express that to him.

I don’t know what’s up with these weird homosexual German guys who keep bothering my life.

I do not know what their problem is.



All in all, it was a good day. It was a very good day at Stadtbad Neukölln.




Now Playing: Di’Ja- Awww.

January 1 2017. Aeroporto de Lisboa.

January 1 2017. Aeroporto de Lisboa.

I’ve probably been in Portugal for less than an hour, but people seem significantly shorter here than they did in Germany. I don’t know how representative the current airport demography is of Portugal’s general population, but that’s just my observation.

I look around, watching the different streams of people moving about. I am submerged in a trepidifying internal pool of wrenching heartbreak, and am being unnervingly chafed by the scathing anxiety for the future that intermittently eats at the raw insides of my chest.

I booked a one way ticket to Cape Verde from Berlin. I have about a hundred dollars in my bank account. I have no idea what will happen once I get there, but I know I have no choice but to go.

The certainty is not in the specific location of Cape Verde- I was actively considering Madagascar for my flight destination about a week ago. The certainty is in the decision to spend some time in a new environment, uncumbered by the commitments of an academic programme and let my thoughts which for the past few months have been discomfitingly repressed and constrained, be freely expressed.

So far no one has stopped me from skateboarding around this airport. Those German airport security guys were less tolerant.

I have about four euros in my pocket. I had a twenty dollar note somewhere in my bag upon leaving Berlin, but for some reason it is now nowhere to be found. I first realised it was missing in the taxi to the airport, on my way to catch the first Cape Verde flight I booked – one which I eventually missed. Regardless, I am subconsciously optimistic the twenty dollar note will reveal itself when I eventually arrive at Cape Verde, and am able to pour out all of the contents of my backpack.

For some reason I overestimated how much time I had before the day of the flight. I had just emerged from like an hour long warm immersion in the bathtub of the Berlin apartment. I opened up my computer, still dripping from the bath, only to realise I had a Cape Verde flight in about thirty minutes. The panic was intense. I eventually got to the airport about fifteen to twenty minutes late. The nice lady at the reception kept telling me in the most placative of terms that there was nothing that could be done about it. No flight, no refund, nothing.

It was one of the very highly discounted flights so I think the refund policies were a lot less well-defined. Something like that.

I scribble some lines of what could be called poetry on a piece of paper.

Somehow I find myself in a conversation with a guy. He is on his way back to his country of origin after an extended period of time as a missionary on an island in Cape Verde. I think it was Mozambique. A few years later I would check him up on Facebook to realize that he now had a baby boy – a subtle (or maybe not so subtle) alert that I had now entered the age group of people who were beginning to have children.

We are walking through a luxury items store at the airport, browsing through the interesting looking female bags and high-heel shoes that line the posh hangers which seem to go all the way to the ceiling. A few weeks ago I would probably have been having thoughts in the direction of buying something here for someone who occupied a special position in my life- in my heart, but not now. Not anymore. The thought hurts. My heart hurts. I need to think about something else.

I am in a conversation with a woman advertising some luxury personal effects. She is telling me about the Brazilian fashion designer that came up with the ideas for the items. I am listening to her voice and following her explanations, entranced by her red lipstick.

You just keep talking please. Just keep talking, you interesting Portuguese woman. Keep telling me about this evidently very remarkable Brazilian fashion designer that came up with the ideas for all of this cool stuff. Please keep talking so I can be calmed by the sound of your voice and the sight of your red lipstick and not feel too immensely perturbed by all of the uncertainty in my immediate future. Oh you want to give me your card? Please give me. Oh yes thank you very much. You keep going.  You just keep going.

At the Lisbon airport checkpoint I saw the line for the travellers who were headed to Madagascar. There was a guy with very long dreadlocks being attended to by the immigration officer. I wondered what it would feel like to be on that line. Headed to Madagascar. I just wondered.


It is gradually getting dark. My Mozambican companion left to catch his flight a number of hours ago. I think I’ve been to every publicly accessible part of this airport. I spent most of my four euros on a cup of coffee and a croissant earlier in the day. I’m lying down on a small sofa at what seems to be the children’s playground section of the airport. The colour theme is lemon and purple, thereabouts. There is no one around to give me any judging stares.

I keep waiting for the flight to Cape Verde.

This post is directly connected with a number of others. An index of these other posts can be accessed here.

Skateboarding Berlin.






One more look around the room.

Duvet rumpled. The mind wonders what the girlfriend is doing. Miles and miles away.

Other than that, things in order.

Toe. Heel. The skateboard finds the hand.

Have to move quickly, there is sun today.

There actually, is sun. Today.


The stairs whizz by.

Whizz, whizz.


Turn. Push. Open air. Ahh.

Plat, four wheels on the ground.

Push push.

The sidewalk is rough. And slightly wet. Golden brown autumn leaves are everywhere.

Push push.

The sidewalk is rough.

The main road is cobblestoned.

I hate the cobblestones. You cannot skate on cobblestones.

Push push.



Push push.

No more cobblestones. On to the main road.

Smooth smooth journey from here.

Push push.

Ah there’s the garden.

Memory takes over:

Flashes of lipstick. Red nail polish, dainty white sandals. Golden brown hair. Red lipstick. Smile. Laugh. Kiss. I love you.

Push push.


Kottbusser Tor.

There’s a drainage cap. Sweeeerve. Nice.



Memory usurps again:

Flowers. I’d like a bouquet please. Wait how much did you say? The mind calculates. I have about five euros in my bank account. But the girlfriend and I just had a fight. They say when you fight with your girlfriend you should procure flowers.

How much did you say again? Ah to hell with it. I’d like four yellow flowers and — Wait what? Oh there’s a bouquet size for funerals and a different size for romance?

Interesting. I did not know that.

Give me one romance bouquet please.

Account probably in the red now. Fool for love. Yeah yeah I’m inundated with awareness thank you very much.


Kottbuser Tor.

Push push.

No one skates on the roads here. I’m not sure why that is.

Push push.

Ah sun.

Sun sun sun sun sun.


Push push. Push harder.


Kottbusser Strasse.

Sidewalk draws the attention.

Memory Again:

The girlfriend wants to go out. Fancy restaurant. You know, because. The remote god-family in Italy demands impression. Proud jacket. Beautiful. Yellow hair. Fancy.

Glass of wine please. The brain pinches me. How much money do you have left again? Ah to hell with that. Outing.

The brain is angry. What are you doing here? All posh and fancy. Indomitable mister glamour. Well done.

Can we please rush through the part where we elegantly sip wine and engage in forcefully spaced template conversation so I can leave this place.

The girlfriend is not pleased. I don’t care. I can’t right now, I can’t care I’m incapable of it. The brain is angry.

Good. Good good let’s go.

Way back.

That was not enjoyable. Yeah. I personally felt it was all too fancy. Contrived in its fanciness. And I found myself being an asshole. Sorry.

Wait. I need to wrap you in your jacket, arms and all.

Hah. You look like a penguin. You look like a penguin in swaddling clothes.

Haah. Haha. Laugh. Kiss. I love you.

Hmm. Interesting. Fancy restaurant is not imperative for couple happiness. Should spend some more time thinking about that.

Push push.


Kottbusser Strasse.

The road slopes upwards.

Ah that was where I had pizza with Ivan. Hah. The yellow hair was fresher then.

Push push.

The skateboarder identity is location-agnostic.

The underpinning physics do not really care where you are- what country- what continent- whether or not school says you’re doing well- whether or not anyone says you’re doing well.

The underpinning physics are concerned one thing primarily- your unwavering acknowledgement of their authority. That— do that, and you’re fine.

Push push.


Mercedes-Benz Arena.

Aesop Rock is saying something.

I do not like this place- I do not like what it makes me think of.

Corporations. All of these annoying mammoth companies.

You have to you know, be good. Play by the rules. Graduate. Get a job somewhere. Daddy will be proud.

Some classmates worked at mammoth companies over the summer. Girlfriend likes that sort of thing. They smell like money. I have a feeling gravity would have pulled her towards one of them if my grip was less firm. Of course it’s not her fault. It’s gravity. I completely understand.

I do not like this place.

I do not like it.


Haha. Ollie over your problems.

Interesting proposal.

Ollie. Ahh. Could have been better.

Push push.



There’s a lot of space here.

Push push.

Take a picture.


Ollie. Ollie. Ollie. You know what, I’ll just stay here and practice.

Ollie. Ollie. Ollie. I don’t care much who is watching.

Memory again:

I’m in a knitting wool shop.

There is so much wool. How is there so much wool. Where do they find all the sheep? Says something about sheep probably. Yeah, probably says something about sheep.

I’d like pink please. Pink wool. And purple. She says she wants to knit me a beanie. I like the idea. And I like pink. I love her.

Wait there are different sizes of knitting needles? How are those ones so large? They look like drumsticks. i had no idea knitting needles could look like drumsticks.


Push push.


Warchauer Strasse.

I need directions.

Hello, where do I find a skatepark around here?

Ah skatepark, I show you.

Conversation ensues with young man from Austria. He talks about nightclubs and custom tobacco rolling techniques and marijuana. I’m interested.

He says Austria is all cows and grass. A part of my mind staunchly disagrees. Is that not where some UN building is located?

Ah there’s the skatepark, thank you very much.

Up, down, up down.

I haven’t tried this curved wall thing before— let’s see what it’s like.

Wait what time is it that I have class again?

Ugh, class.

You should have seen my work on the Bloom Filters assignment. I described them  from an elegant algebraic perspective— verging on abstract algebraic even. I am very well near certain my point of view was novel.

But the scoring scheme is predefined, and rigid. How exactly is novelty to be quantified.




Frankfurt was beautiful. I loved every moment of it. Asides of course when I had no money to pay for accommodation and had to secure myself space in the lounging area on the power of my MacBook Pro.

Welldone. Indomitable Mister Macbook Pro.


Dresden. Ah Dresden. No I can’t think about Dresden now, not yet. The last time we spent time together, alone. My heart is still raw from the absence, I’m not touching that now.

I should go. I have class like soon.

Push push.

I should become a DJ.

Set things up at the Rosenthaler Platz U-bahn station.

I should play anti-music. I should be a Noise Cancellation DJ.

I started writing code for it. Noise cancellation code. I was testing it the other night. How did go again, I don’t seem to remember. I’ll check when I get back.

I’m growing older. I’ve had so many dreams. I have so many dreams. What is to be done with all these dreams. What is to be done with dreams in general.

It’s entirely reasonable to think there are dreams you’ll never know you even had. Dreams you’ll have like once, and never remember. Until maybe their memory was triggered by something. Hm how do you trigger the memory of a dream. How do you trigger the memory of a specific——

Mayowaaaa moove move you have class- It is my father’s voice. Einstein Podolski Rosen paradox and you have not done the readings.

What. What sef.

Mayowa has a class and unlike his more serious colleagues, he has not spent hours preparing beforehand. Wow. That’s new. I’ve never heard that before.

Girlfriend always used that to claw at me. I hated it. It was very effective at spoiling my self-confidence. I did not use to read before I met her. It was not that much of an issue. I did not understand why in the name of God it should be one after becoming a boyfriend.


Push push.

Push push.

Wonderful to have gotten some sun today. The paucity of warmth in this place makes going out a punishment. There’s the default inertia to going out, but this punishment poses an additional cost. Outings have to be promising of proportionally more utility to make acquiescing a reasonable course of action.

I should buy Pepsi. Augmenting class with Pepsi has been considerably pleasurable recently. And pizza. Pizza from the Turkish guy. I’ve always wanted to learn how to make pizza. I saw him making it the other day but——




Push push.