Life is no bowl of cherries

Life is no bowl of cherries

The St. Oberholz at Rosenthaler Platz is the place where we ordered coffee and cake. This restaurant was nothing special, if not what would be special. Since then is converted to the center of Rosenthaler Platz-wellness center, meets here the vanguard of a disoriented generation.
Life is no bed of roses. This sentence you have to first of all to heart. In big letters he hangs on the facade of the St. Oberholz middle. If you are new to this district, like the saying its not very exciting. The pony-melancholic in the St. Oberholz however, he meets the heart. Most people in the middle do nothing more intimate than his own pony. At the same time they know that this request they will be barred forever.
Such is in real life. Sometimes the apple pie and all you do not even know why. Also, four fresh cheese cakes can not compensate such a loss. Therefore one can say that middle-man to wear a pony-existential pain around with them. You want to accept the world as it is, they are willing to live a life without ponies. Yet it's hard. And some days they just want to be alone.
Do not put all your eggs in same basket
The Herkunfsverh?ltnisse score in the St. Oberholz are difficult to obtain. There is little mention of this and much clicked. On both floors of the restaurant brought young people sitting behind computers and stare into the all-new MacBook LEDs. Laptops are not talking. And one should not be fooled: These people are not out of fun in the St. Oberholz. No, this is working. Mostly it is "irgndwas with media".
The young work force of the 21st Century works in a "socially proactive environment" as the St. Oberholz. There is this apple pie, and if it is all there is cheese cake. And many other people with laptops. This is the "digital bohemians". The modern outgrowth of a big city, people get along in order to do just that, what they feel like. The Internet has become in many ways, the pivotal point of this desire. The digital madam and her hedonistic nonsense clientele.
Old bread is not hard, no bread is hard.
Nina called night DJ ponnie M. She lives a little further down the Torstrasse, on Rosa-Luxembourg-Platz. During the day they doing this and that, at night it is in the funky dress on the turntables. Nina likes the top wood, because there "are people who are fairly obscure." Translated, this means that people are sitting here with laptops and pretend as if they were working like hell.
Nina puts on her headphones and tinkers together on her computer a few new tracks. In addition to their computer is a Bionade. Ginger-orange flavor. So she likes to spend a whole afternoon before. "What is there to criticize," she asks with a piercing look. "Berlin is very different. I have seen as many sailors. Really with uniform and cap. Even though there are no sea, in Berlin. "
The pigs of today are the hams of tomorrow
One has the feeling that the Internet and lifestyle in this city in a natural way have found each other. For the golden age there is in Internet still a bit early. Why are the people in the St. Oberholz also a little later. Why all the stress? The pigs of today are the hams of tomorrow. Wait and drink tea. Or wait Latte Macchiato.
Outside the Rosenthaler Platz, the city changed. There are cranes and huge sink drills, the pipes in the ground. On the street corners, the last bums hanging in their old neighborhood. Recently, a few Polish punks have emerged with their dogs. Almost ironic: they are the harbingers of a new era.
He sit up and Perd s?cht Dorna
Evening falls with the daylight, the mood on a fluke-level lounge. A small lamp on the wall exposed a landscape portraits of the Temple Mount, the mad design of a Berlin architect to Alpine transformation of Tempelhof Airport. Just insane, it looks likely in the handful of heads that sit pensively at their tables. They plan their projects with blank stares of the future. In the short time between the long party nights these people dream of their individual triumph 2.0. One day bloggers who have ties and then the world belongs to them, bit by Mega-Fucking-bit.
He sit up and Perd s?cht Dorna. He sits on the horse and look for it. This sentence you have to first of all to heart. It does not depend, in large letters on the facade of St. Oberholz in the middle. If he did, people would come here maybe on a piece of cake. Then they would move quickly on, because the best horse on the set you can do is our own time.
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