Berlin in the early 2000s plays backdrop to this story of two American art students. With nods to popular culture of the time, especially the Amanda Knox case, this is a story that slowly reveals itself, and in doing so sends both main characters on an unstoppable downward spiral into an nightime, hedonistic, unpredictable city. The story can be dark, taking you to uncomfortable places and dumping you there, but thrilling at the same time.
I scanned the room, everyone was in their early twenties and mostly dressed in black with a few stray sequins. They all seemed to have gotten tattoos from the same shaky-handed friend: dodecahedrons, golden ratios and crooked arrows running up forearms. Viola was now trying to edge into conversation with the von Habsburg, her hands moving like an airplane controller as she talked. Hailey wasn't having it, slowly turning her shoulders, shifting Viola out. A familiar feeling washed over me, which I recognised from countless high-school parties when Ivy would disappear into the mesh of cheerleaders; there was nothing for me here. I slid in behind a clump of girls in silky outfits with matching red lipstick to get within earshot of Hailey. She tossed me a frustrated look for interrupting then shook her head, she was staying. I trudged out.
I had always been annoyed at the pressure of New Year's Eve but the battle-ready rollicking of the city made me feel up to the challenge. A new year. A new war. I was thankful I'd worn my knee-high Wyoming riding boots as I waded through cartridges and broken bottles.
