16RedPoppet's SongFic Contest

Round 6 → Heroes by David Bowie

I live in Berlin. In the district called Schöneberg, to bring it to the point. I've been living here for a couple of amazing years and I love it here in Berlin. I'll probably stay here for another while.

Because I love Berlin, I walk around the town to explore the other districts. Today is such a day. So I called my friend, Brian, to come over to discover the last district of Berlin and he'll be around in a couple of minutes. So I better get ready.

About ten minutes later we were sitting in the so called U-Bahn that drives us to the beginning of the district.

As we walk upstairs from the underground, an ugly smell hits my nose.

"What the hell is this?" I ask by pressing the wings of my nose together to keep the smell out. But Brian just shrugs his shoulder.

"I don't know", he says, „It's probably just the smell of here. Let's go on then it should be vanishing."

No sooner said than done. We follow the street until it ends in a bound around. And yes, I already let my nose go but I can't get this smell out of my nose so I cover half of my with my scarf.

As we get deeper into this district, we hear some Turkish music coming from almost everywhere. I look around and see more and more roofless people. Turkish people.

Immigration fail is the easiest way to describe the current situation. I feel bad when I think back to how well my first time in Germany went. It's a shame that this is happening to them. They don't deserve this.

"I'm not sure whether I like this part of Berlin or not." Brian says when we walk around a corner.

"Me too." I reply. "They need help."

Brian nods. "Yeah, I know right. But what can we do?"

We walk past an instrument store and I stop in front of it. "I'll be right back." I say when I enter the shop and its inner doorbell rings.

I come back out with a saxophone on my arm. "I always wanted to buy one." I reply to Brian's confused look. "Follow me."

A few minutes later we both are back at the centre where we listened to Turkish people before. "May I join?" I ask.

"Would be great." The men reply in with their Turkish accents.

I start playing the saxophone. I totally get into the music and forget about the time.

When it starts to get dark I say good bye to the men who were gaining some more money now than they would have gained without me. But it's not about the money. For me, it's always the music that's in the foreground. And this will never ever change.

Neuköln by David Bowie

A/N:

This piece was inspired by the fact that the music has been interpreted as reflecting in part the rootlessness of the Turkish immigrants who made up a large proportion of the area's population. Bowie lived in Berlin at this time so I thought of putting it all together.

~Lu