Hauptbahnhof

The crisp and freshly cut digits displayed 11:03 above the station, confirming that time had already been set against me. Berlin’s Hauptbahnhof buzzed with an untapped energy, a great sense of movement restrained; each person below walked with purpose, but did so calmly. Trains pulled in and out smoothly, and yet there is a constant inaudible rumbling of cogs turning and determined voices calling out for progress, manifesting themselves as the endless cranes that litter the city’s skyline. Commuters’ voices reflect off silver walls and polished glass, to merge into a single sound that bounced back to where I stood. It is thrilling.

A blurred list of places filled the page in front of me; do I revisit those that I know well, or go to places that are new to me? Do I take a train to the cathedral that was so blissful on a summer’s afternoon a year ago, or do I wait until night when it becomes majestic? Should I for the first time venture inside, or walk past and climb the Fernsehturm? There’s the Astro Bar, or lonely Dorit Schmiel at The Wall, the cafes, the Reichstag, there’s pretending to be a Wenders’ angel, or climbing down to look at the bullet riddled wall. There’s checking out Nefertiti. 

I hold all of those thoughts in my head as I buy a packet of cigarettes and walk outside. Right now I don’t want to be at any one of them, but instead just simply to walk these streets again, and let my feet find me a destination.