This post isn't named after a stylish techno night founded by Sven Väth; it's a description of the way I feel after spending an entire week wrapped up in bedding with reading materials pressed to my face. I feel coccooned.

My wings were clipped a few days ago because I had to have a bit of surgery to repair a tear in them. It wasn't major but almost overnight, I have been transformed from a nimble social butterfly to a lumpy caterpillar, too sluggish to even hump over to the next twig and sample a new leaf. What with it being spring now, there are new leaves in abundance too, budding all over the metaphorical party tree. I'm regretting the loss of my wings... whenever I can see anything beyond the hazy hull of sleep and painkillers, that is!

As the weekend approaches I feel the usual metamophosis happening. The wings might not be fluttering but the senses still are.  If excitement is blossoming on your branch of Berlin I'd like to hear about it. I wanna know what I'm missing out there!


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