Tattoos, body chains, and dark lipstick.
Ina and Amé are two women who rewrite the game.
Follow them into their never ending world.
Written by Ina Seele and Amé Fengári
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"Bitte," she said, smiling at the lady wrapping her white asparagus. The lady nods and smiles at her, and Ina smiled back, shaking her head at the change. She left the shop and walked the streets of Berlin, taking in every landscape, every face, every movement like a new breath of fresh air.
At the very last moment, she made some changes. She felt too sure by going to Italy with it so planned, with everyone knowing where she'd be. She had to get away. Escape.
She wanted to stay. She spoke absolute German trash, but she loved it there. That's what she wanted since she was young, to travel and to never be seen again, and nobody was looking at her.
Well, false. People did look at her. But they didn't care, they let her be, they let her enjoy the heavily alcoholic beers, the food she's never had, and they loved her company, especially at the pubs.
She loved their company too, even though every night there were different faces.
She loved the culture, everyone to theirselves and yet, kindness was never unseen. Even now, as a teenage boy approached her with broken English and her broken German, he wanted to help her carry her groceries.
"Ich komme aus Amerika, aber ich ist Karibik," and she stared into the distance as she put every single word together, piece by piece. The boy laughed and nodded, but she was sure she butchered that whole thing.
"Du bist," and she nodded, she got that, "hübsch."
Hu-what? She nodded and laughed, and he laughed too, but his cheeks were red as tomatoes. She set her bags in a Taxi and she said her goodbyes, and went back to her apartment.
Did she want to go in there? She wished she had just come by herself, but she had roommates. Roommates that liked her, only when she was with them.
So she'd go to the pub earlier than ever. She walked herself there, in black-leathered high heeled boots, black jeans, and an oversized white sweater. It was cold, it was freezing cold and her ears hurt and she could not feel her fingers but she withstood the cold for the alternative was a bunch of snarky women.
After twenty minutes she walked in and exhaled. Her ears begun defrosting and she stretched her hands, finding one familiar face. Wolfgang.
"Hallo," she smiled and waved at him.
How he was wearing only jeans, barefoot and no shirt in this cold, she'll never know.
He also looked like Ivaan. A a lankier, skinnier, shorter version.
Ivaan, she hung her head low. But now she could breathe, she could breathe and think of him at the same time.
"Hallo Liebling," he instantly smiled and went to hug her, kissing her cheek in the process. "How are you?" His accent was as thick as honey, but it was soothing, to speak to someone without guessing and overworking her brain cells.
