Foundation Spore and Publix

Loud asphalt, Hermannstraße. Rap music blends with the scent of sucuk. between the airport and the neighbourhood, brick and concrete. The gate to the cemetery, wedged between two houses. Quite modern here, all things considered. The rooftop terrace is supposed to be beautiful — at least, that's what I've heard — but it lives up there, and I am always down below.

Now, between the raised bed and Frau Schwarz's final resting place, tending a garden caught between the living and the dead. I could get used to this. My iPhone trembles. Stefan's calling. I've got to go.