Just before that whole virus thing got
out of hand, Insa and I went to Hamburger Bahnhof. It is
a building located in Berlin and used to be the terminal station
for the Berlin-Hamburg railway, but these days, it houses a
contemporary art museum because there is no reason for anybody to
go to Hamburg.
As far as I am concerned, contemporary art exhibitions are always
a hit or miss thing, and this time it was no different. There were
a couple of works that I thoroughly enjoyed
portraits of people aged 0 to
of people’s mouths next to cynical descriptions of their death
circumstances) and some that I really didn’t
Halfway through I noticed quite an appetite emerging in my
stomach, so we went to the next restaurant that seemed ok. In
Mitte, this task is synonymous to “locating the least
soulless hipster shoebox,” and I had almost settled on “let's just
starve to death” out of sheer principle.
burger restaurant we chose was just as expected: prices were
expensive and the burgers were amazingly dry. Waiter service was
We went back to the museum and spent some more time in there,
then bought a couple of edgy postcards, then went to Insa’s place
and wrote a postcard to David, a mutual friend of ours.
At home, I tried to use the remaining postcards to enhance the
Moments after I was done putting them on the wall, my flatmate
came in. First, she shuddered. After a while, she looked slightly
amazed and said something like “oh wow, that’s disgusting”, and
started to laugh.
Then, she made a shrieking noise.
“IS THAT A CHILD???”
— “I, uhh, I don't know”, I retorted.
— “I've had similar-looking underwear as a child!!”
But just when I was starting to feel bad about this delicate
situation, she calmed down and came to the conclusion that it's
art after all — and therefore acceptable.