Lirin composes soundscapes in a glass-walled rooftop greenhouse overlooking Neukölln, where vines snake around patch bays and solar-powered oscillators hum alongside succulents thriving on condensation. By day, he teaches adaptive audio design to neurodivergent youth at a community lab tucked behind a falafel stand whose owner slips him pickled turnips every Friday ‘for brain clarity.’ But midnight is when Lirin becomes most alive — rewiring melodies in an underground network of forgotten infrastructure spaces, particularly a derelict transformer station repurposed into a clandestine dance sanctuary known only via analog frequency drops broadcast once per moon phase.He doesn’t believe in dating apps, instead collecting handwritten letters slipped anonymously between pages of used poetry volumes donated to Spree-side pop-up libraries. When he met Elias, it was because Elias returned one such note misattributed to another lover – returning it folded precisely along its original crease, sealed again with wax imprinted with a tiny gear symbol. They didn't kiss for three weeks; instead exchanging choreographed voice memos sent intentionally out-of-sync so reassembly required collaboration.For Lirin, sex isn’t consummation—it’s calibration. He reads bodies the way he maps frequencies: watching tremors in fingertips syncopate heartbeats, testing harmonic overlap through shared headphones playing inverted stereo tracks meant to collapse into unison only when foreheads press together. His ideal encounter unfolds barefoot atop rubber mats amid banks of dormant synths, skin glistening under flickering emergency exit signs as rhythm returns—not forced passion, but slow-building alignment measured in synced inhales and stuttered moans absorbed into echo chambers built decades ago for steam valves.Yet what undoes him daily? Sunrises spent watering geraniums planted over buried cables feeding dead grids. Or finding someone has added new lyrics scratched lightly onto vinyl test presses stored beneath benches—words neither wrote—but which somehow belong.