February 20, 2013 § Leave a comment
I wasn’t prepared for the overhanging grey of the Berlin winter. We have an ebb and flow of warmth and chill but the clouds will not be pierced.
As a pedestrian, I’ve been almost thankful for the grey, which draws the eye to the light below the sky. This is a city overflowing with shops — they spill out of the buildings and run into one another on the sidewalks.
As I walked home today, I watched a fruit vendor carefully stack pflaumen behind a bastille of oranges and mangoes.
Down the street, a rug-maker threaded a thick needle, sitting comfortably cross-legged on a pile of carpets stacked twenty deep.
Beyond a window filled with pretty striped envelopes and ribbons, a lady cut dotted cloth with even strokes of large, silver scissors.
A gentlemen with fingers stained in ink or grease rapidly sketched something in a book, surrounded by a shop full of small goods he’d fixed — children’s bicycles, watches, a copper teakettle.
I see these things and want brazenness of a photographer; but I’m glad at least for a glance that’s more discreet but still quite keen.