If anyone asked why they had moved to Berlin, Sofia would respond, \u201cWe came back,\u201d and clarify after a pause, \u201cfrom Berkeley, California.\u201d She would emphasize \u201cback\u201d to impress both a sense of familiarity\u2014and thus, be spared the question, \u201cHow do you like Berlin\u201d\u2014 and coercion, as if an unspeakable catastrophe had forced their departure. Perhaps, in a near future, her impersonating a climate refugee who had fled the raging fires on the East Bay Hills and found safety in a former East German neighborhood would evoke compassion. In the present, no one actually asked why they had returned, no one noted that it had been a terrible idea to arrive in the middle of a winter during the pandemic, and only a few acquaintances \u2014Eastern European immigrants themselves\u2014concluded glumly, \u201cYou should have stayed in California.\u201d<\/p>\n
Most Americans whom she had met in Berkeley had been visibly excited about Berlin but she could not say if their enthusiasm had been a display of privilege, general courtesy, or a genuine interest. As far as she could say, there wasn\u2019t a single American family\u2014let alone a Californian one\u2014in their daycare, apartment building, or immediate vicinity. Her attempts at small talk on playgrounds failed. She either met no other parents who wanted to chat or if she did, predictably, they were just visiting or living in neighborhoods at the other end of town. They did not even bother to exchange numbers.<\/p>\n
\u201cPeople have lives, you know, and with the pandemic on top,\u201d Christian said. \u201cWe are very lucky to have found a spot in the daycare at all.\u201d He stared at his laptop screen without lifting his gaze, \u201cIt is three-thirty.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry to waste your time,\u201d Sofia frowned.<\/p>\n
\u201cThat\u2019s not what I meant,\u201d he looked up.<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course,\u201d she said. \u201cI should go before Suzanne tells me again\u2026\u201d Sofia spoke in high-pitch simple German and paused deliberately between words, \u201cBitte\u2026ihr Kind\u2026um sp\u00e4testens\u2026f\u00fcnf vor vier\u2026 abholen!\u201d (\u201cPlease\u2026pick up\u2026your child\u2026at exactly\u2026five to four!\u201d). She lifted her chin, as if to make her lips more easily readable, and raised her voice, \u201cVERSTEHEN SIE MICH?\u201d (\u201cDO\u2026YOU\u2026UNDERSTAND\u2026ME?\u201d)<\/p>\n
\u201cLook, I am sorry,\u201d Christian said, \u201cI\u2019ll pick up Noah tomorrow and talk to Suzanne. She probably means well.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSure she does! \u201cIch \u2013 Ausl\u00e4nderin\u201d (I \u2013 a foreigner),\u201d Sofia pointed her index finger at herself and then at Christian, \u201cDu \u2013 langsam sprechen!\u201d (\u201cYou \u2013 talk slow!\u201d). She drawled on with a strong accent\u2014her rendering of a generic Eastern European\u2014but Christian did not laugh.<\/p>\n
Before leaving the room, she paused at the doorframe and repeated with a smile, \u201cVerstehen Sie mich?\u201d (Do you understand me?)\u201d She meant it as a reconciliation. If she made the same joke in her regular voice, perhaps it would be funny. Christian\u2019s face registered only a great degree of concern, as if he wished to ask, \u201cShould I worry about you?\u201d Sofia wished she could respond, \u201cYeah, you should,\u201d but instead, she said \u201cTsch\u00fcss\u201d with false cheerfulness, this time remembering not to slam the front door. There were few things in life that infuriated Christian as much as a sudden noise, even one produced unintentionally.<\/p>\n
\u201cTsch\u00fcss,\u201d his steady voice echoed from behind the door.<\/p>\n
In the dazzling Californian mornings, Sofia had often taken Noah out in the stroller and announced the names of the streets on their way to Live Oak Park, \u201cVine, Spruce, Rose, Walnut\u2026\u201d She had enjoyed the same views that had changed only slightly in subtle variations of blue and green. There had been no seasons but for one continuous spring whose eternal light had blurred her sense of time. The lush tree crowns had stood out against a strange electric sky, so unfamiliar and striking that she had stared in awe until her eyes had hurt. Pop, pop, pop, the utility wires had swung back and forth in the occasional gust of wind. Pop, pop, pop, the air at ground-level had felt cool to the touch, almost abrasive, but higher up\u2014above the glossy leaves, evergreens, and multimillion roof terraces\u2014the sun had glared on with blistering glory.<\/p>\n
\u201cBerkeley was no paradise!\u201d Christian had gasped at Sofia\u2019s idealized reminiscences after their return to Berlin. \u201cRemember, here, and here, and here,\u201d he had scrolled back and forth in the shared album that they had called, \u201cNoah.\u201d Its thousand photos included numerous of no obvious relevance to child-rearing and so \u201cNoah\u201d, the album, served exactly as what Noah, the child, had become\u2014a depository of proofs, a corrective to mis-narration, as if a human needed only one story to grow up with and that story had to be fact-checked any time a parent glossed over the details.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd, here!\u201d Christian had pointed at the final image that had settled all misremembrances. The date on the file read September 9, 2020. Christian himself had taken the picture from across the street at lunchtime. The low-angle shot showed Sofia\u2019s and Noah\u2019s silhouettes at the bay window with the ceiling lamp shining bright behind them. Above them, in the blood orange twilight, the roof tiles, which had normally looked plain brown, glowed with an eerie, ruby radiance. Two tall trees framed the composition on both sides, their dark stems looked stiff like torches that were ready to burn. And burned they had but behind many hills.<\/p>\n
Sofia had no memory of feeling pain or indifference to the fate of those whose trees and houses had burned; no memory of preparing an emergency backpack with diapers, water, snacks, and extra layers for Noah in case of evacuation; no memory of calculating the speed of their escape that could be accomplished only by running downhill with the stroller since they owned no other vehicle. On a post-it note, she had written, \u201cno side streets, down on Cedar, to Eastshore Highway, 40 min, 2.5 miles. Campus?\u201d She had no memory of sending an email in the middle of the night and receiving a response from the International Office the next morning that she could still find in her Inbox, \u201cAny campus evacuation plan likely focuses on evacuating from campus and may not account for what actions to take if you live off campus.\u201d She also had no memory of the days\u2014or had it been weeks after\u2014when the sky had cleared but the pollution had remained high, so they had stayed inside with an air purifier borrowed from their landlord. There were no pictures from the inside, only from the outside\u2014of big open skies, of spring in the fall. Christian, however, remembered.<\/p>\n
In Berlin, both Sofia and Christian had stopped taking pictures altogether. She blamed her old cellphone camera, everything it shot now looked dull and blurry. He blamed his busy schedule and besides, he noted, they were not visiting anymore, this was their regular life. So, this was regular life, Sofia thought, a life not worth capturing? Sofia had also stopped calling out the names of the streets on the way to the daycare but still followed a predictable route: Karl Marx Allee, Stra\u00dfe der Pariser Kommune, R\u00fcdersdorfer Stra\u00dfe, Marchlewskistra\u00dfe. For a while after their return, Noah had continued to recite, \u201cVine, Spruce, Rose, Walnut\u2026,\u201d but he had quickly adjusted and focused on a different kind of rhyme, that of a popular German children\u2019s song, \u201cAlle meine Entchen schwimmen auf dem See, schwimmen auf dem See, K\u00f6pfchen in das Wasser, Schw\u00e4nzchen in die H\u00f6h\u201d (\u201cAll my ducklings, are swimming on the lake, are swimming on the lake, heads\u2014into the water, tails\u2014to the top\u201d).<\/p>\n
Every morning, Sofia and Noah crossed the same flat landscape that stretched in front of them like a wintry mural of hunched bodies, muddy vehicles, and barely pulsating traffic lights. Sofia pushed the stroller with a slow and painful deliberation. Occasionally, as if awakening from the surrounding stupor, Noah chanted out with extra passion, \u201cK\u00f6pfchen in das Wasser, Schw\u00e4nzchen in die H\u00f6h\u2026 Alle meine Entchen, alle meine Entchen.\u201d Every afternoon, she walked the same path to the daycare alone, with slightly more energy and even less interest in the world around her. Today, the air felt heavier than usual. The clouds spread above like a molten lid that was about to seal off the city. It was not raining yet but her woolen coat was covered with hard crystalline droplets. She had forgotten her umbrella and gloves again.<\/p>\n
At precisely five-to-four, Sofia stood at the entry of Noah\u2019s daycare unit. Instead of Suzanne, a new intern met Sofia at the door. There had been at least three interns in the last two months. Noah insisted on calling all of them \u201cAnne,\u201d which had been the name of the first intern, who had long since finished her rotation and left. As Sofia learned from a printout on the wall, the new intern was called Julie.<\/p>\n
\u201cGuten Tag, Julie\u201d (\u201cGood afternoon, Julie\u201d), Sofia said.<\/p>\n
Julie nodded and looked around with alarm. Two toddlers, a boy and a girl, were lying on the floor, barefoot, wearing a diaper but no pants. They wiggled their toes in the air and squealed. Julie turned to Sofia but her words were partially lost in the uproar, \u201cSuzanne\u2026positiv getestet\u2026geschlossen bis\u2026Email von\u2026\u201d (\u201cSuzanne\u2026tested positive \u2026 closed until\u2026 email from\u2026\u201d). Before finishing the sentence, Julie rushed to the bathroom whose door was wide open. Another toddler had climbed on top of the high changing table and Julie caught him right when he was about to dive forward. He started crying. The two toddlers from the floor followed Julie into the bathroom and observed solemnly, while she comforted the boy on the changing table. As usual, the air in the front room was too hot and smelled of soiled diapers.<\/p>\n
Sofia wished again that she could send Noah to daycare with a live camera. Christian had retreated in revulsion at her wish for clandestine surveillance\u2014a wish and not yet a plan for action\u2014and stared at her, as if her face alone would have betrayed a grave mental disorder. What disorder would that be, she had wondered, being a mom in her mid-forties who worried about air draft, microbes, and strangers, and torpedoed any obstacle on her son\u2019s way? In the US, she had noticed parents monitor their toddlers\u2019 activities in real time apps but hers was perhaps a grimmer fixation, a long-conditioned expectation of the worst, \u201cThe trauma of my childhood behind the Iron Curtain, you know,\u201d she had chuckled but Christian had only said, \u201cAh, that story again\u2026\u201d and added, \u201cWell, here<\/i>, we don\u2019t need cameras.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNoah ist drin\u201d (\u201cNoah is inside\u201d), Julie called out from the bathroom.<\/p>\n
Sofia peeked through the playroom\u2019s glass door and saw him with the rest of the toddlers huddled around an older caregiver who sometimes came in as a substitute. The woman, whose name Sofia had never learned, continued to read, then paused, patted Noah on the back, and pointed in Sofia\u2019s direction. The circle of children cheered, \u201cAbgeholt, abgeholt, Noahs Mama ist da\u201d (\u201cPickup, pickup, Noah\u2019s mom is here\u201d). Sofia opened the door. Noah walked towards her, first timidly, but then he ran and almost collapsed in her arms.<\/p>\n
\u201cWarte und warte auf Dich\u201d (\u201cWaiting and waiting for you),\u201d he panted. She drew him closer. He pushed her away, \u201cNicht kuscheln, gro\u00dfer Junge\u201d (\u201cNo cuddling, big boy\u201d). She repeated, \u201cGro\u00dfer Junge,\u201d and smiled at the caregiver but the woman\u2019s expression did not change.<\/p>\n
\u201cDie Kitaleitung kontaktiert Sie mit Einzelheiten \u00fcber die Quarant\u00e4ne\u201d (\u201cYou\u2019ll get an update about the quarantine from the principal\u201d), the woman said.<\/p>\n
\u201cDanke\u201d (\u201cThank you\u201d), Sofia replied and closed the door.<\/p>\n
They took the exit through the garden. It had started to rain. Sofia unfolded the rain cover and tried to attach it to the stroller. From his seat, Noah kicked with his boots and poked at the plastic with clawed fingers. In the locomotion, his hat covered his eyes and he screamed. \u201cGentle, gentle,\u201d Sofia consoled him in English and then spoke in Bulgarian, \u201c\u0412\u0441\u0438\u0447\u043a\u043e \u0435 \u043d\u0430\u0440\u0435\u0434, \u0441\u0435\u0433\u0430 \u0449\u0435 \u0442\u0438 \u043e\u043f\u0440\u0430\u0432\u0438\u044f \u0448\u0430\u043f\u043a\u0430\u0442\u0430. \u041f\u043e\u043a\u0440\u0438\u0432\u0430\u043b\u043e\u0442\u043e \u043d\u0438 \u0442\u0440\u044f\u0431\u0432\u0430, \u0437\u0430\u0449\u043e\u0442\u043e \u0432\u0430\u043b\u0438\u201d (\u201cIt is alright, I will adjust the hat for you. We need the cover because it rains\u201d).<\/p>\n
He continued to fret. She unzipped the cover\u2019s front. When she adjusted his hat, her cold fingers touched the side of his face and he struck her.<\/p>\n
\u201cNicht hauen, bitte (No hitting, please),\u201d she said in German.<\/p>\n
The chilly air calmed him down otherwise, so she left the cover unzipped. When she lifted her gaze, Sofia saw the toddlers from Noah\u2019s group observe intently from the playroom\u2019s large windows\u2014noses and mouths pressed so close to the surface that they left little circles of vapor on the glass. The light behind them was a warm yellow, they were all fair-haired, round-faced, blue-eyed, and dressed in similar outfits in earth tones and subtle patterns. The older caregiver behind them also faced the window. Sofia waved but neither the children nor the woman reacted. They stood still, their gazes fixed on something, and Sofia could not say if they had noticed their departure at all or if it had been an altogether different spectacle\u2014one entirely invisible to her\u2014that had occupied their attention the whole time.<\/p>\n
\u201cSchneller, schneller (Faster, faster),\u201d Noah demanded.<\/p>\n
Sofia pulled her coat\u2019s hood over her head, pressed down her dark hair that had frizzled in the rain, and continued on the muddy pathway.<\/p>\n
A big, silver-grey S.U.V had parked outside and was blocking the crosswalk. While Sofia waited for the vehicle to leave, Noah called out, \u201cAuto, Auto (Car, car)!\u201d A familiar face smiled at them from the back window. It was Emil. Whenever Sofia asked for updates from the daycare, Suzanne said, \u201cEin perfekter Kita Tag. Emil ist Dein bester Freund, stimmt\u2019s, Noah?\u201d (\u201cWhat a perfect day in the daycare. Emil is your best friend, isn\u2019t he, Noah?\u201d). Emil\u2019s mom, whom Sofia had occasionally seen in the entry room, was at the front passenger\u2019s seat but her head turned abruptly in the other direction. Behind them, the front gate closed with a bang and Emil\u2019s older brother, Leon, and their dad rushed to the car. Noah said, \u201cHallo, Leon (Hello Leon)!\u201d Leon pointed at them, \u201cPapa, guck mal, das ist Noah\u201d (Dad, look, this is Noah\u201d) and Sofia greeted the dad but he did not respond. Instead, he opened the back door and told Leon impatiently, \u201cBitte, steig ein. Es regnet\u201d (\u201cPlease, get in. It\u2019s raining\u201d).<\/p>\n
Noah started rocking back and forth, as if his movement alone could propel the stroller, and commanded, \u201cZu Emil, zu Emil\u201d (To Emil, to Emil\u201d). Sofia hesitated. Noah roared, \u201cEmil\u2026.\u201d They suddenly stood mere inches from the car doors\u2014Emil\u2019s eyes sparkled through the blurred window; Noah\u2019s face looked reddened by the cold but joyous. The dad got in on the driver\u2019s side. The mom faced forward. Noah kept waving, as the car drove away and turned at the corner.<\/p>\n
If Sofia would tell Christian about the encounter, he would say, \u201cDon\u2019t mind them. Es ist einfach so<\/i> (It is just so<\/i>).\u201d If she would keep ruminating, she would inevitably lose her temper, \u201cIs it because of me? Because I am not German? Or because we don\u2019t work for the Ministry? Because we don\u2019t drive an S.U.V? And\u2026 what the fuck, since when is Berlin a city of S.U.V.s and Spie\u00dfer<\/i>?! Is this how they\u2019ll treat Noah too? Because of his Migrationshintergrund<\/i> (migration background<\/i>)? You know what, fuck them and fuck Berlin!\u201d She would sputter in the empty air and clench her fists. Christian would shake his head and say calmly, \u201cYou overthink. Noah will be fine.\u201d<\/p>\n
Before they reached the corner, Noah started kicking the rain cover again and cried out with desperation, \u201cWarum Emil weg? Warum Noah nicht im Auto\u201d (\u201cwhy Emil gone? Why Noah not in the car?\u201d).<\/p>\n
Sofia tried to soothe him, \u201c\u041d\u044f\u043a\u043e\u0439 \u0434\u0440\u0443\u0433 \u0434\u0435\u043d \u0449\u0435 \u0441\u0438 \u0438\u0433\u0440\u0430\u0435\u0442\u0435 \u0441 \u0415\u043c\u0438\u043b\u201d (\u201cYou\u2019ll play with Emil another day\u201d).<\/p>\n
\u201cNein, nein\u201d (\u201cNo, no\u201d), he objected, \u201cJetzt spielen! Warum, warum Emil weg\u201d (\u201cPlay now! Why, why Emil gone?\u201d).<\/p>\n
He kept pointing in the direction of the vanished car and wept, \u201cWarum, warum\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
Sofia wished she could say, \u201cEs ist einfach so,<\/i>\u201d but instead, she sighed, \u201c\u041d\u0435 \u0437\u043d\u0430\u043c \u0437\u0430\u0449\u043e. \u0421\u044a\u0436\u0430\u043b\u044f\u0432\u0430\u043c\u201d (\u201cI don\u2019t know why. I am sorry\u201d).<\/p>\n
Neither her resignation nor the strong wind that blew fresh raindrops in their faces appeased him and he twisted his body in one direction, arms flailed in the other. His feet gave the rain cover a final push and its front ripped down across the middle. The cover fluttered briefly in the air before landing on the muddy pavement, where it lay like a crinkled herbarium sheet that had pressed underneath specimens of no particular importance\u2014pieces of gravel, decaying chestnut leaves, and cracked spiky chestnut shells; the actual chestnuts had been long collected. Noah got quiet, peeked from under the stroller\u2019s hood, then resumed crying, this time, mumbling between every outburst, \u201cRegenschutz, Regenschutz, Regenschutz\u201d (\u201cRain cover, rain cover, rain cover\u201d). Sofia folded the cover in a messy bundle which she stuffed in the basket under the stroller. Her dirty hands trembled but she said nothing and pressed the handle bar with great force until the drizzle enveloped them from all sides and streaks of rain trickled down her face. \u201cRegenschutz, Regenschutz,\u201d Noah sobbed.<\/p>\n
Sofia bit her lips. An old crack ruptured and bled. She sucked on it with vengeance. \u201cRegenschutz, Regenschutz\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
***<\/p>\n
Sofia saw the illumination from afar and when they turned around the corner, Noah stopped crying at once. A firetruck was backing into position at the parking lot in front of an old firehouse. Its bright lights flashed on but it produced no loud sounds besides an unobtrusive beeping. Sofia and Noah had walked by every day for months and never seen a vehicle come in or out of the building but today a performance was taking place before their eyes and except for a single cameraman, who filmed the activities, they were its only spectators. Noah clapped his hands, \u201cTat\u00fctata, die Feuerwehr ist da\u201d (\u201cNee-naw, here comes the firetruck\u201d).<\/p>\n
A middle-aged man and a woman in dark blue overalls, which read on the back \u2013 \u201cBerliner Feuerwehr\u201d (\u201cBerlin Fire Department\u201d), descended and darted to the vehicle\u2019s side. The cameraman followed behind with a Steadicam and filmed, while they quickly opened various compartments whose inside revealed a multitude of cables, tools, and small devices. The man and woman moved away. The cameraman zoomed onto details. Noah pointed excitedly. Sofia nodded. The cameraman rested the Steadicam and exchanged words with the man and the woman who gestured in agreement, closed all compartments, and returned to the cabin.<\/p>\n
The film crew repeated the same sequence multiple times. The cameraman\u2019s voice droned on in a relaxed manner after each take, the man and the woman followed the same routine. Noah did not seem to mind the repetition and occasionally commented, \u201cFeuerwehrauto, Tat\u00fctata, Tat\u00fctata, Feuer, Schl\u00e4uche, Wasser\u201d (\u201cFiretruck, nee-naw, nee-naw, fire, hoses, water\u201d).<\/p>\n
The rain had stopped and the cold no longer poked at Sofia\u2019s body through layers of damp clothing. The streetlights turned on. Cars whooshed by in a cacophony of discordant splashes, their headlights struck the wet sidewalk and its sodden appearance remained momentarily concealed under a gleaming, slick surface. Even the occasional passersby walked to the supermarket at the corner with greater determination. The whole city looked suddenly brighter and livelier.<\/p>\n
Across the street, Berlin\u2019s notorious techno club, Bergfried, towered above, solemn and quiet. Its Classicist style seemed so unbecoming of its previous use as a heating plant that Sofia wondered for the first time whether the building had not been conceived as a Stalinist house of worship from the start and whether it was not only now, some seventy years later, that it had realized its purpose. Its fa\u00e7ade and surrounding grounds were in a state of disrepair but she was sure that their decay, too, represented a careful choice, indeed one quite common in Berlin\u2014of pretend negligence that camouflaged the same vanity and hunger that governed more lustrous world venues. In the distance behind Bergfried, a large, well-lit billboard advertised the nearby home improvement retailer on one side and on the other, in the vast expanse along the riverside that had once stood empty, rose numerous cranes, scaffolding, and a few high towers. Sofia could not remember if the skyline had changed overnight or if its transformation had been more gradual, over many years in which she had stopped partying at Bergfried, and had kept leaving and returning to Berlin but had ceased to notice or care. Maybe this was what it meant to be home\u2014having the privilege to ignore, or what it meant to age in a city\u2014having experienced enough to forget.<\/p>\n
\u201cMama,\u201d Noah\u2019s voice startled her.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u0414\u0430?\u201d (\u201cYeah?\u201d), Sofia looked down.<\/p>\n
\u201cIch will nach Hause, zu Papa\u201d (“I want to go home to papa\u201d), he said. His light, round eyes sparkled with anticipation that she had often mistaken for vulnerability but she knew better now\u2014he was just hungry.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u042f\u0434\u0435 \u043b\u0438 \u0442\u0438 \u0441\u0435 \u043d\u0435\u0449\u043e?\u201d (\u201cWould you like a snack?\u201d)<\/p>\n
He nodded. She took a banana out of her backpack and peeled it off for him. He waved at the cameraman and actors with the banana in hand but they did not seem to notice, so he bit a large piece off its top and chewed with great delight.<\/p>\n
Instead of the usual path, Sofia took a shortcut behind the large apartment complex next to the firehouse.<\/p>\n
\u201cNach Hause?\u201d (\u201cHome?\u201d), Noah asked.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u0414\u0430,\u201d (\u201cYeah\u201d), Sofia said, \u201c\u043e\u0442\u0442\u0443\u043a \u0435 \u043f\u043e-\u0431\u044a\u0440\u0437\u043e\u201d (\u201cit will be faster this way\u201d).<\/p>\n
The Plattenbau<\/i> fa\u00e7ade flickered with occasional color and motion\u2014a red curtain was drawn here; a TV screen glowed there; silhouettes approached the windows or faded in the darkness behind them before their features could emerge in sharp focus.<\/p>\n
\u201cMama,\u201d Noah said.<\/p>\n
\u201c\u0414\u0430?\u201d (\u201cYeah?\u201d).<\/p>\n
He handed her the banana peel and said, \u201cHeute war super. Noah gl\u00fccklich!\u201d (\u201cToday was super. Noah happy!\u201d).<\/p>\n
\u201c\u0420\u0430\u0434\u0432\u0430\u043c \u0441\u0435, \u041d\u043e\u0430\u201d (\u201cI am glad, Noah\u201d), Sofia said, \u201c\u041c\u043d\u043e\u0433\u043e \u0442\u0435 \u043e\u0431\u0438\u0447\u0430\u043c\u201d (\u201cI love you so\u201d).<\/p>\n
He started singing, \u201cAlle meine Entchen schwimmen auf dem See\u2026\u201d She hummed along in a soft, weary voice, \u201cschwimmen auf dem See, K\u00f6pfchen in das Wasser, Schw\u00e4nzchen in die H\u00f6h.\u201d<\/p>\n
It was four-forty-five and the sky was dark.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
If anyone asked why they had moved to Berlin, Sofia would respond, \u201cWe came back,\u201d and clarify after a pause, \u201cfrom Berkeley, California.\u201d She would emphasize \u201cback\u201d to impress both a sense of familiarity\u2014and thus, be spared the question, \u201cHow do you like Berlin\u201d\u2014 and coercion, as if an unspeakable catastrophe had forced their departure. […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"featured_media":19858,"template":"","categories":[54,10],"class_list":["post-19980","stsp_text","type-stsp_text","status-publish","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-issue-25","category-prosa"],"yoast_head":"\n