Berlin
December, 2020
I remember drinking a cup of Darjeeling in a café on Boxhagener Strasse. At that hour Friedrichshain was almost deserted. But on my first visit to Berlin that happened to be my feeling all along, that everywhere there were streets that allowed for quiet ambling, getting lost, bypassing the hustle and bustle.
What a surprise! The Darjeeling tasted of spring! Outside, the trees were barren. Clumps of ice stuck to jagged stones and the Spree was frozen. I stood in the cold on the highpoint of the bridge on Rathaustrasse, trying to imagine the flow of the river.
If I was to return in spring, what city would I find?
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A Love of Strangers
November, 2020
One day I took a walk I will never forget. I was in Brooklyn, passing through Boerum Hill in the direction of downtown. It was one of those glorious spring mornings where the trees are enchanted and every flower is cheerful and sweet-smelling. I was headed towards a café whose name I have long since forgotten─ but the miracle took place outside its front door…
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The Man with the Musical Name
Published in: The Esthetic Apostle, December, 2018 (Publication now defunct)
The man’s names rhyme so whimsically, I find myself singing them as I walk the corridors. But when I see him, usually in the dark from the edge of his bed, I call him only by his first…
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Slowly Through Glass
Published in: The Lost Sparrow, Spring, 2017
Standing at the kitchen window, looking into the yard, I was enthralled by a bird which seemed intent on dismantling my tiny garden. Its beak, claw and body were a blur, and I couldn’t recall having seen such frenzied activity as it catapulted itself forward in a succession of tiny leaps, using the force of its fall – the stab of a beak, the scratch of a foot – to excavate such quantities of soil that it seemed only a matter of time before the plants would be uprooted and the bird swallowed whole…
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Jason Workman 