Registered, Taxable, Unstoppable

There’s something absurd about running between the trade registry, the chamber of commerce, and the tax office in a single morning, sweating through bureaucratic small talk with civil servants who are, inexplicably, competent and kind. But I did it, and when I stepped outside afterward—the cloud cover actually broke, actual sunlight on Berlin—it felt like the city was in on the joke.

This journal is now a registered company. Legally. With invoice rights and a tax number and a stack of obligations I haven’t fully read yet. They call people like me Jungunternehmer—young entrepreneur, fresh meat in the machine of commerce. And shit, that does something for me. Even my neighbor with dementia congratulated me on the stairs, which felt like the universe signing off on the whole enterprise.

My first executive decision was buying the Steve Jobs biography, which I intend to write off as required reading. Whether business administration was ever actually my strong suit is a question best left unanswered for now.