mitte in lazy loops

I met a man in Berghain, and after the sun had come good and up we wandered the city a while, making our way through Mitte in lazy loops, buying an okay orange and some shitty grapes and eating them on a bridge while he told me about how he and his twin, who were triplets in utero, like to blame everything that goes wrong with either or both of them on the resorbed third-who-wasn’t, a joke that—surprise!—their mother hates.