Zekeriya Guser – Captivated conductor of my very own extraordinary journey.

You wake before dawn, asking yourself one question: “Why?” Then it’s a triple espresso, getting dressed, brushing your teeth, shoes on, locking the door from the outside—and checking it a few more times—before you set off into the dark. Then you arrive at the scene.

The sun is shy of rising and you are shy of existing. You pay a ridiculous amount for the ticket, of course, right after waiting in line, only to find out that coffee isn’t free—although, to be honest, it’s relatively cheaper than usual. And then you need a coffee, and one more, and another, of course, so next stop is the coffee queue. You order your coffee and a ginger shot—because why not—and you’re ready to hit the dance floor in your blazer.

Apart from the occasional email check on your work phone, you are there. The music, the vibe—both are on point. Eventually you find yourself grooving, forgetting that you’ll be in the office, saving the world one email at a time, in a little over an hour. But who cares? With all those lovely, layered people around you, you just live in the moment.

Just one thing: there will be strangers (often connected to the organisers) offering you little “pills,” the kind that promise more energy. Remember what your mum said about strangers and their offers. Smile, pop, and continue with caffeine—you only live once, and that’s how you will remember it.

Then the time comes to get on the (possibly late) S-Bahn to the office. You start walking from the venue to the station, thinking more or less the same as in the morning—“Why am I here?”—only to realise it’s not actually that bad. You still keep your guard up so your friends don’t notice and trick you into coming again too soon, at least.

It’s that spin-class feeling: you say “never again” at minute 42, and 18 minutes later you’re looking at the board for the next class.

— blame/credit to Natia, Karina & Lorenzo.