A crowd is gathered near the front steps of the city administrative building at Kleistpark, a revolving light dyes the scene blue in flashes, it looks like a demonstration of sorts, something about the war in Afghanistan and the German soldiers who are to be sent as part of a UN troop. At one edge of the crowd stands a group of policemen, gathered around what appears to a life sized Santa Claus sculpture holding a branch in one hand. But then someone shouts "Ruhe, wir drehen!" [quiet, we’re shooting], the Nicholas figure begins to move, the policemen to apprehend him. A lady in a fur coat standing beside the police van into which St. Nick is about to be loaded begins a speech to the old man standing next to her, audible only to her and the microphone. People with briefcases push through the policemen to enter the office building, the rest of us disappear into the park with our bags of groceries.
Friday, January 11, 2002
Kleistpark
[A text from the deep-storage archives]
A crowd is gathered near the front steps of the city administrative building at Kleistpark, a revolving light dyes the scene blue in flashes, it looks like a demonstration of sorts, something about the war in Afghanistan and the German soldiers who are to be sent as part of a UN troop. At one edge of the crowd stands a group of policemen, gathered around what appears to a life sized Santa Claus sculpture holding a branch in one hand. But then someone shouts "Ruhe, wir drehen!" [quiet, we’re shooting], the Nicholas figure begins to move, the policemen to apprehend him. A lady in a fur coat standing beside the police van into which St. Nick is about to be loaded begins a speech to the old man standing next to her, audible only to her and the microphone. People with briefcases push through the policemen to enter the office building, the rest of us disappear into the park with our bags of groceries.
A crowd is gathered near the front steps of the city administrative building at Kleistpark, a revolving light dyes the scene blue in flashes, it looks like a demonstration of sorts, something about the war in Afghanistan and the German soldiers who are to be sent as part of a UN troop. At one edge of the crowd stands a group of policemen, gathered around what appears to a life sized Santa Claus sculpture holding a branch in one hand. But then someone shouts "Ruhe, wir drehen!" [quiet, we’re shooting], the Nicholas figure begins to move, the policemen to apprehend him. A lady in a fur coat standing beside the police van into which St. Nick is about to be loaded begins a speech to the old man standing next to her, audible only to her and the microphone. People with briefcases push through the policemen to enter the office building, the rest of us disappear into the park with our bags of groceries.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment