Train tracks of thought
Cycling for the S-Bahn home today, I passed over three pairs of train tracks, set into the concrete, innocuous. They were rusted, disused, but aiming for Sachsenhausen, a couple of hundred metres to my left. Whether they marked the route of human freight trains to Oranienburg’s concentration camp, I do not know, but they’re still fucking there, streaks of ignominy, guilty or not. It makes you think. Meanwhile a shiny new car dealership advertised Mercedes Benz and Smart cars. Vorsprung durch Technik anyone?