Coffee with marzipan-laced cookies. The scent of early autumn decay by the banks of canals. Flea markets with relics worth owning. Bookshops with titles so beautifully packaged that German editions beckon to be purchased, despite my inability to read them. Shops whose casually minimalist styling and wittily conceptual offerings are motivated by intellectual pass times rather than profit margins. Art galleries and ateliers seemingly everywhere. Yes, I’m fond of Berlin.
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