There isn’t much to know about change. Is it a process? A practice? A reflex? I know a lot of people resistant to change. I am a slave to it. As duly comforting it is to know you can wake one morning and flex your ability to give everything to adaptation, I still find it hard to accept I’m not the only one practicing life like this, holding onto the parts of people I’ve gotten to know, before they’ve slipped out of my grasp... How could they change their mind so easily? We’re often told people live through habit, “he’ll never change, leave him”, told not to hang onto the prospect of reformation. Although, in my repeal for resisting change, I’ve never wanted to give in to seduction so much as I do now, never been settled to the idea that I can’t stick by a plan, until now. Is it that I find comfort in discomfort? Oh, the seducing call of having no responsibilities, living day-by-day, is pungent in Berlin. You can feel it in the breath of the people you kiss, feel it in the hearts of those who have turned this into a fruitful lifestyle. You ignore those who were seduced, then left behind.