Hamburg on a rainy day. Steps that lead nowhere in particularly. Into churches to have the clothes dry, into little coffee shops to savour a hot chocolate while letting the clothes dry, into an art museum with the hope of seeing Magritte. Rushed steps towards the closing door of the exhibition. Missed gloves, trains, buses, words and unstoppable rain.
Koln is resilient, peaceful and in transit. Of delayed trains and cold mornings. Only the locks of the bridge look sad. They remind me of my first trip here years ago and the hope of locked love, of the first photos into a new land.
Bruges is the city of an old painter who airbrushes cloudy like figure on fake canvases. It's the labyrinth of the family life. It's the place where my friends carry a one and a half year old not knowing how blessed they are. It's the city of his dimples and his train toys.
Hamburg is the city of a strange shop with carved wooden figures, giant ...