We are back in Berlin. I can still feel the Autobahn in my bones. A motor rattle. I feel strangely calm. What does it mean? I will try not to think about it and just enjoy the misty Berlin air and the pleasure of clean clothes. Coming home from tour is an art form. To do it gently. To rest, but not crash. To watch some TV, but not fall apart on the sofa with a catatonic stare into a flickering laptop. Or become obsessed with the lady bugs that have hatched in the cracks of my windows that crawl around on my floor. I’ve written down the numbers for the tour and Ariel and I cleaned the car yesterday at the local car wash. We power vacuumed the crumbs from the the road snacks using two giant vacuum tubes going at it from each side simultaneously. I took a long bath this morning and shaved my legs. Are these things you want to know about? Alicja says “Home is where you can take a shower”. Ariel says “Home is where the dirt on your sheets is your own dirt”. I tried to remember the bed where I slept on the first night on tour in Poznan. I can’t remember it. Not the sheets, not the bed, not the room, not the hotel, not the road. I do remember the venue Troche Kultury very well. I think I can remember the other beds I slept in, but not the sheets. I remember arriving in Vienna. Hanging out with my brother Philipp in front of Fluc. Our wonderful show that night. Getting to play Crazy for Jane songs. Crazy for Jane is the band I have with my brother that is all about and for Jane. It is a desperate serenade. It is funny and very sad and well, very desperate. I remember my heart in Passau. The sweetness of returning to a city I haven’t played in for some years. I guess I have been touring for long enough that you see time pass in the cities and in the people. Like seeing our promoter Petr in Strakonice after not having been there in 8 years. Our most playful audience was there. We were all cold in a kind of castle cellar, pretending stage lights are heating lamps and hoping our fingers move anyways. And then this awesome audience sets fires to the songs and they go off like little bombs. We shared the night in Strakonice with an awesome band from Prague: Oswaldovi. Oh Oswaldovi! Now I am sitting at my desk, watching the traffic on the bridge. The tour already has this sense that perhaps I made it up. But there are still the bags with the cables, pickups and CDs and on Sunday we will play a last show at Weserstrasse 58 in Neukölln. Excited to play in my neighbourhood. So things are coming home.