“Berlin wears its heart on its sleeve,” she thinks to herself as the Ring Bahn pulls into Wedding station, passing a beautiful red brick façade stacked shoulder to shoulder with a Plattenbau.
“Here you find glimpses of beauty and decay on unfiltered display. The city has no interest in expectation management. It simply exists from one moment to the next, inventing and reinventing itself as it goes along.”
She strings these borrowed thoughts together trying to see if one has anything to do with the next, her mind a reflection of the patchwork landscape she’s in.
As the doors open passengers push and shove in a frantic attempt to hurry off to wherever they urgently need to be. For a moment there’s frenzy and violence in the air. Harsh words slice through the early morning lull, bouncing off thick Hauptstadt skins to shatter at their feet.
She carefully tip toes past the shards, avoiding contact at all costs. Everybody knows that if they cut you once, the bleeding never really stops.