SouTH BeRLiN=>NoRTH BeRLiN – The Double

Like every morning, at any time, before the stairs leading to the platform of  line number 8 ;

he is seated on a case, against the blue-green tiles,

a grey beard, a woollen hat, an anorak, fingers clenched around a paper cup, staring straight.


I move forward on the black scattered floor , with building-workers – the only ones to wear colour,

with people on their own.

I reach the other side of the platform immense, like everything here.

On one of the stairs’ steps, he is seated, half-huddled, grey beard, anorak, (no woollen hat).


I am stuck in the beam,

lost in mid mirror


or on one side too

when on the other end

the other employee for 8€10 the hour

will spend 60 minutes in public transport

to join the other poor end of the city

and come back tonight,


passing one of hims






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