Author: Emilia

  • Neither Here Nor There

    Neither Here Nor There

    The scream of the tram is a flock of whistles outside my window. I am halfway across the room before I see Berlin. I walk past a car with its sliding door open. A child inside cries and it pulls me off the sidewalk. The adults around the car are the child’s caretakers. No one Read more

  • Manifesto*

    Manifesto*

    Theatre is a collective reaching for mystery and truth. Theatre is the grandchild of ecstatic and mysterious rites. Theatre is ritual.  Theatre artists prepare for this ritual by practicing listening to the mysterious, by embodying the mystery, and by ritualizing that embodiment.  Theatre artists prepare for this ritual by creating space using ancient technologies that Read more

  • Hosanna

    Hosanna

    How to write a cry? How to write a screama sobthe grief that seepslike green oil frommy pressed heart? How to write a prayera pleaa spell of protection? How to write an open hand,shelter and signalto stay the fistthe gasthe grenadethe gun? The battering ramthe speeding tenebrous truckthe wall of riot shieldsthe helmets and the Read more

  • The Foghorn and the Parakeet

    The Foghorn and the Parakeet

    This morning’s heavy fog is bright. I sit in the cloud, up here on the sixth floor, and watch the air around me shift from white to gold to rosy pink. Just overhead, soft grey shadows race down the hill to the Tagus River, where every minute a sonorous foghorn sings out. It sounds gently, Read more

  • Kyiv

    Kyiv

    The week before classes started, I went to Kyiv (not Kiev, which is the Russian spelling). My friend Jared is a journalist I know from our Minneapolis days, and he’s been living there for the last two years. Twice last year he came to visit Berlin when the frequent air raids started to fray his Read more

  • Life on the Internet: Thoughts on Social Media & AI

    Life on the Internet: Thoughts on Social Media & AI
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    Tl;dr: I don’t use either, and that’s on purpose. In 2011, I was working for Pensacola Opera in Florida. I was staying in a house and driving a car owned by opera patrons who’d taken a four-month cruise around the world, fulfilling a lifelong dream and helping out a few young artists in the process. Read more

  • Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing

    Sheep in Wolf’s Clothing
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    FC Union My favorite place in Berlin is the wooded walk to the stadium half an hour before a game begins, the moment the roar of the crowd first reaches me, the trees themselves resounding. Some unnameable thrill swells up in me; I float, elated, on the loudening roar, until slowly the stadium comes into Read more

  • Ein Jahr

    Ein Jahr

    I landed in Berlin one year ago today. I have been here a year! I have lived in six apartments. This one is my favorite. I feel brand-new here. I have a few friends here. I cannot navigate this city yet. German comes more easily, but I still don’t know the words. I feel brand-new. Read more

  • Untitled post 238

    the untroubled patter of the rain on the leaves the hollow roar of the S-Bahn, like some distant monsterturning over in its cave the little clicks and clacks of the neighbor’s day, item against itempractical and indistinct the harried rumbleshriek of the tramofficious and important the pigeons’ wings beating warm and earthy against their bodies Read more

  • What’s Called For

    What’s Called For
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    Be here now.Be here with your pounding heart.Be here with your heavy eyes.Be here with your empty hands.Be here with your holey pockets.Be here with your racing mind. Be here with others—the sky, the neighbor,the love that holds us all,the parched and blooming earth. Be here with your gifts when they’re called for.Be here with Read more