Art of Construction

In Berlin, East meets West.

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I take the S-Bahn. The train is packed. A man, in his mid-Fourties I guess, repeatedly pokes me with his elbow. He doesn’t even bother to make it appear accidental. Our eyes meet. The poking stops. It seems I speak the local dialect.

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The train passes along walls covered with graffiti; an urban brick and concrete canvas.

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When I switch trains I get a good look at the local landmark, that at this time of the year could very well be the tip of a giant buried christmas tree.

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The sky looks bleak and the temperature is close to zero degrees Celsius. The locals dress accordingly.

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I reach Berlin Alexanderplatz that still features the charm and magic of an era past …

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But even here: Holidays are coming.

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This would make a nice countdown.

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I stroll westward, pass a mural …

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… see a tiger …

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… and a walking restaurant.

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The Old and the New stand side by side.

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In some places the Old is gone, and the New hasn’t arrived yet.

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In other places the city seems to tear itself apart.

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Someone seems sad.

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Someone else takes a picture.

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There are islands of silent beauty that stand high above the turmoil.

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I see an island of learning …

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… guarded by a shining sentry.

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I spend some time in the food courts of the KaDeWe. When I leave, the sun has set, but it is not dark.

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Lights are everywhere.

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Some are for sale.

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I head back. Cold fog thickens.

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I reach my destination.

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A friend is doing some construction of his own. There I find shelter for the night.

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