Berlin

Walking in expecting to see it- personal items, numbers, maps, photographs. There was nothing, a nothing that said everything. A silence that echoed a million voices, a feeling that can not be felt.
As she passed through the corridors, the dangling ipod swinging side to side, she questions if this is how it should be done. "Preservation is such an oddity", she thought. Mummies and museums, what are we holding on to and why in such a particular way? She placed the headphones over her ears and scrolled down the menu to number 7, Exile. "You are now entering the hall of exile." All that she sees are other people with dangling ipods and can not help but wonder what language is coming through their headphones. "Vous entrez dans maintenant le hall de l'exil."
Behind the possible French woman she sees a door, it leads in and out. In walk possible Italians, out walk possible Germans. However, inside that space all alliances vanish, nationality vanishes, identity vanishes. She has entered a void.
"So what number is this on my ipod menu?" she wonders.

My curiousity has taken flight. I want to see, experience, taste, and feel everything. Building of understanding and owning up to not understanding. I feel as though my aspirations have branched into countless directions. Is it possible to be everywhere and do everything? I long for the day that my curiousity is satiated or at least quenched, but I fear it will never come. Why does society force us to be one thing= the doctor, the teacher, the artist, the humanitarian?
Limiting ourselves with ourSELVES.