Of course, I can't always have what I want. That would be far too easy. My own happiness sometimes collides with the dreams and wishes of others. And it's not my place to harm them just because I have the questionable opinion that I absolutely have to be the main character in every single story that's told. Every once in a while, I have to admit to myself that I'm only a supporting character in a play and that the spotlight is on someone else. No matter how difficult…

If I want, I can make friends with very many people in a very short time. No matter in which place, no matter in which situation, no matter with which counterpart. Then I'm funny, rousing and so so open-hearted, as if we knew each other for a lifetime. I share intimate stories and secrets, confess my biggest sins and fears, and make them feel like I understand them and would left no stone unturned, no matter how unattainable, to make them happier just by having met m…

As she makes her way home, I shout the first stupid thing that comes to my mind. The black-clad, slim person with the white sneakers marked by life turns around once more, grins, shouts back and raises her hand. I wave as well, then she steadily gets a little smaller - even smaller than she already is. The smoke from her cigarette dances in the otherwise clear air. I look after her only very briefly, because I can't stand the sight and the gradually embracing cold an…

In the most unexpected situations, I meet people whose sheer existence fascinates me so much that I can hardly comprehend it. It's not like I'm overwhelmed with love, hate, or pity because the tentative affection I feel for the person on the other side doesn't fit into the emotional templates into which I've almost instinctively squeezed all previous encounters. It's not love because I'm not consumed by jealousy, desire, or grief. It's not hate because I finally feel…

Even today, more or less strangers still ask me by email, letter and shouting through the open window what actually happened to AMY&PINK. The portal of good humor. The party ship of Berlin's newcomers. The voice of a generation that never wanted to grow up, partied for three days in Berghain and woke up one morning in the ruins of their own denial of reality. „Vice's crude mix of topics has set a precedent, even in the German blog landscape,“ as Hanna…

No matter how far away we may find ourselves, in the crowded streets of New York, on the hot coasts of Australia or under the high ceilings of Berlin's old apartments, every now and then we return home. To our city. To a world in which time seems to stand still. And we feel superior. Because no one there had the courage to dare even come close to what we have achieved. The streets of the small community are still the same ones we rode down on bikes as kids. Ran down…

This blog has changed again and again over the past years. From the little diary of a Bavarian media designer to the story collection of creative minds spread all over Germany. From the bible of Berlin nightlife to the tabloid newspaper for hipsters. From a digital news site to a never-sleeping ticker of viral happenings. Until at some point I was faced with a sheer monstrosity of false expectations and hopeless prospects. This website wanted to be everything, but co…