Berlin for The Night Owls: a Friday-to-Monday weekend

A rooftop garden bar on a shopping-centre car park, sunset over the whole flat city; a small cover charge after dark.

Daniel Brühl's tapas bar by the Görlitzer Park, tortilla and pimientos until late, the first drink of the night taken at the bar.

An unmarked door, a buzzer, and fourteen seats around one black table; cocktails made slowly, no standing, no photographs.

A tiered breakfast platter for two under the flower shop's roses, the first meal of a day that will end at dawn.

The punk hall where Bowie and Iggy watched the Wall-era bands, still a concert venue most nights; check the listings and buy at the door.

The power-station club that opens at midnight and closes on Monday; no phones, no guarantees at the door, and the Panorama Bar at sunrise.

Open all night since 1978, dim stairs and a mirrored room upstairs; scrambled eggs and a coffee with the others still in last night's clothes.

The Sunday amphitheatre where thousands watch strangers sing; a bike-trailer sound system and a crowd that applauds anything brave.

A jazz and blues cellar under the Delphi cinema since 1975, low ceiling and a late set; a short walk from where the morning began.

Breakfast around the clock, shakshuka and pancakes in a hotel dining room that does not care what time you got in.

The longest surviving stretch of Wall, 1.3 kilometres of murals on the river side; a slow walk past the fraternal kiss on the way out.

A village of sheds, a bakery and the Kater Blau club on the Spree bank, built by the people who ran Bar 25; a last coffee by the water.