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Three women sat at a kitchen table in Kreuzberg drinking red wine into the early hours.

They had previously met each other (never all at the same time, though their paths crossed) some twenty or so years back.

They spoke about the mesh of circumstances that had finally brought them together in Berlin.

Much was forgotten the next morning, yet on the table was a paper napkin with four words scribbled in red lipstick …

The choreography of life.