Germany fit me like a glove. That feeling of belonging, a nomad like myself yearned for, naturally. All this time, I thought my heart would be up on my sleeve because that was what one does when life-changing moments come about. Instead from the moment, I set foot in Berlin, I felt a sense of peace and belonging. I wore an unbreakable smile, unwavering in spite of the perspective of having to handle myself and fully rely on the language, I barely got a taste of, everything happens for a reason.

In record time, I located the precedent observatory, library, and my apartment building. Up next was, opening a bank account, for which in Germany you needed a prearranged appointment.

Overall this was the perfect place to start over, and recreate myself

and my name.

"So, Architect Clara Jones..." A lady around my age sized me up over a mug of caramel latte, on my first day at the Berlin office. "Spill the beans, what is your background, and who did you step over, to get this job?"

I almost choked.

"Excuse me?!"

"Oh, come one newbie! Nobody here is a saint, we all have skeletons in the closet, it is just how life works!" Maria del Mar Coroner, assistant to one of the landscape architects was clearly digging for dirt, but my skeletons were, to her dismay mine to keep.

I finished my coffee and headed to the atelier, each one of us got by contract.

"No skeletons, worth mentioning I am afraid, just the boring craving for a blank slate. I will let you know if I find yours, though !"

As the first meeting commanded, I began to bud heads with the language barrier, but this was my dream job and it became clear with the speed of light. We were granted access to the oldest part of Berlin, as well as the art district, with the mission to revive the area, bring business and art in, and take on the development strategy.

Choosing Architecture to me was all about my calling to leave a mark, resistant to time and a positive impact to pass on to the generations, with respect for the past and ambitions for the future. Here I was jumping without a safety net, yet convinced as one could be I belong.

I was  in  my  bubble.  The  calm  before  the storm.