Maysilee never had the happiest recollection from her youth, but from falling hopelessly in love with a Danish boy to gathering the pieces of her crushed heart and moving on with the son this love left her, everything was still painfully clear in he...
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The place where Mads was going to present felt very much like him - unlike anything around.
In the center of this very eccentric district in Berlin is located the theater - it was like any 19th-century historical building around Berlin unless for the fact that it has been painted like a messy and psychedelic rainbow, the colors followed no logical order and demanded to be looked at by the passing eye. Tall theater banners displayed the season's plays in more toned-down colors to contrast with the building.
To approach the entrance I have to duck a whole crowd of people on the sidewalk; there was zero consistency on the audience surrounding the theater, from 20 to 80-year-olds, from the dirty hippies leftover of the last decade to high-class theater buffs.
I understand that is Saturday and people are off work, but the weather is freezing, and the line is big enough to make me wonder if the play is as low-profile as he made out to be.
Twenty minutes later I head the line. Two young ladies with dark makeup are taking the tickets. "Hi, I'm a... special guest," I stutter, the words didn't feel right and I wanted to laugh.
She pulls up a clipboard. "Last and first name?"
"Thomsen, Maysilee."
They both raise their heads with grins on their dark-tinted lips then look at each other. I blink nervously, yep, they're really smirking at me. I try a smile in response.
"Prettier than I thought you'd be," she murmurs and picking up the wristband.
"I'm sorry?"
"Nothing, give me your wrist." I do as she says and she puts on me a black paper wristband with a 12B on it. "Enjoy the play."
"Thanks," I say relieved to be leaving. But as I walk away, turning back to take one last glimpse of these weird girls, I catch them looking at me, then pretending nothing happened.
The theater is as pretty inside as it is outside almost enough to take my mind off of the situation. The ceiling has a dome made of colorful stained glass like a gothic church, as well as the windows. Truly, the whole theater felt like a psychedelic dream. I and many other people wait on benches and sofas for the doors to the actual theater to open.
Once the place looks like it couldn't fit more people, they open the doors. "Black wristbands first, please," a man in a red vest calls.
Me and other twenty people make a line, I looked like an outsider amongst them - these were the theater buffs. The B represented the right side and the 12, the first seat into the second row. Too in the front for me.
I chew on my finger, trying hard not to begin biting my nails as the people take their seats. I felt like starting a conversation with the man beside me but he was too into the theater pamphlet to even bother. I tried calling Lylia to come along but since Christmas, she viewed everything Mads and I did together as a date.
