At night I would climb the steps to the Sacre-Coeur, and I would watch Paris, that futile oasis, scintillating in the wilderness of space. I would weep, because it was so beautiful, and because it was so useless.
Simone de Beauvoir, Memoirs of a Dutiful Daughter
Don’t think about anything. Just be. Berlin. I’m a foreigner here and yet it is so familiar. In any case, you can’t get lost. You always end up at the Wall. I wait for my photo at a photo booth, and out comes someone else’s face. That could be the beginning of a story. Faces. I’d like to see faces.
Wim Wenders's Wings of Desire (1987)
Twenty bridges from Tower to Kew
Wanted to know what the River knew,
Twenty Bridges or twenty-two,
For they were young, and the Thames was old
And this is the tale that River told.