12 January 2011

Berlin, yet again.

An old man with his arm shoulderdeep into a glass recycle bin. There’s money for those committed enough to fish it out. At the bin next to him, a posh looking woman tries to hide a nasty habit.

The snow is gone, but the gravel used to cover the sidewalks is still everywhere. I visit friends, so I mainly walk the old neighbourhoods. Filthy battleship-grey apartment blocks, random collections of dumped trash. A lifetime’s worth of furniture next to the river. A faded advertisement for a self-referential Bollywood movie. Dog shit, 24 hour vegetable stores and general neglect. Nightshops that don’t sell alcohol.

This could could be anywhere, but probably not in Germany. I’m the only white guy around, yet these are my streets.