Berlin has so many memories for me, but (like Munich) that is all it is now, just memories. Memories of Yulia in Hanky Panky (now gone), Riccarda in Mon Cheri (now gone), Iga in Golden Gate (now gone), Olga & Alla in Mazurka (now gone). So sad. The high nights I had in Berlin. Life-changing. I’d had carnal experiences in Soho for years, but Berlin took me to another level entirely, and really opened me up as a human being, and dare I say, as a man. I came out of the chrysalis a butterfly, thanks to Berlin. I bloomed and blossomed thanks to Berlin, and came back to London so much more confident. It is cinema that taught us how to live, said Godard (who I revere). Well, it is strip clubs and floozie bars that taught me how to live. How to talk to women, which is the same thing. So yes, with the wiping out of Stuttgarter Platz Berlin really died for me. The way Soho did with the closure of Carnival Strip, Astral Cinema, Sunset Cinema (and much later Soho Cinema and Boulevard Strip). The place I lost my Vienna Virginity (Pour Platin) is closed down, knocked down, completely gone, a big hole in the Gurtel where it used to be. The place I lost my Berlin virginity is gone, turned it into a (s)wanky cocktail bar. Amazingly the place I lost my original virginity, 61 Dean Street Soho, is still open for customers. I include this note for future biographers, and future idolators who may wish to make pilgrimage to the important places of MY life. I remain convinced it will happen. Convinced of my historical importance, even if nobody realises it yet. No one realised Van Gogh’s significance until long after he died; Kafka, etc. Even Samuel Pepys. I am writing and living my life (as a work of art) for posterity.