I feel, despite its beauty, disconnected from this place. Though the square is, in every corner, bursting with life I am foreign to it.
From the left a couple stumbles towards me carrying a box of doughnuts and a bottle. As blissfully unaware as they are of the world taking place around them they are nevertheless a part of it. Whereas I feel like a ghost, left to watch from my haunted corner the life transpiring on the other side.
The violinist plays in the center an eternal melody, full of sadness and longing. The four sirens behind her look every which way, searching for something impenetrable to human eyes. They look out across the vast nothingness and call mournfully for a passing ship to come.
The two churches on either side of the square cast their shadow over the sun, pressing me between them so that I feel suffocated.
A beggar solicits across from me, working his way around. I wait my turn, the ground beneath my feet jagged and uneven. He passes without a whisper, his battered suitcase bereft of wheels and dragging bitterly against the ground.
The lament complements the violinist who, seemingly unaware of the crowd gathered around, lets a tear run free down her delicate cheek. The breeze brings with it a sea of lost memories and I am left to drown in them.
The bell rings and my feet carry me away.
Berlin is cold tonight.