over a doughy-but-not-too-chewy and cheesy-but-not-too-greasy

well-deserved-from-biking-gillions-of-kilometers fantastic margherita pizza from
il casolare

i somehow survive a charming conversation in broken italian, german, and english

with a new friend, the stranger milania from sicily.

we sit crowded at a long table, observing what appear to be berlin's most stylish walking on by with open containers.

m and i gesture camera lenses and fresh fish, brooklyn and atlanta.

this, this whole awesome-stranger-meeting, language-struggling thing, self says to self, is why you're on this adventure and what you'll remember when you're old and crusty and settled down. as i wonder why i couldn't exempt myself from pizza night on account of i'm in berlin and should be eating a bratwurst?

-yeh!