Kiel Hauptbahnhof

She must have been like a delicate flower sometime long ago. I am not saying that all of it has faded, otherwise I would not have thought of a flower. But her hair seemed weak, gravitating towards nowhere, nothing but gravity on display. The colour seemed not to be the kind that, even when it was illuminated by the most beautiful light shining through the window, piece by piece, reveals itself in a subtle expression, but more like a hollow, translucent vessel that needed paint for too long. Yet her face was not even unfavourable from the base of its logic, it was rather symmetric and could have been a thoroughly aesthetic sparkle. But with her head moving forward and her words seeming to come from the neck, not from the transcendence of her experience, it all collapsed. It collapsed like the tower made of wooden bricks. So I saw the vulnerable landscape passing by.