Claudia Pechstein’s hair was platinum blonde when I met her. Cut just above the shoulder. Her jaw was certain, her eyes a piercing sapphire blue. She looked like a policewoman, which she was, and is of course. She looked like any one of the hundreds of them that fill the ludicrous looking Estrel hotel near …
Category Archives: Berlin
Schepplin
It was four thirty in the morning, it was bitterly, bitingly cold, and the entrances to Friedrichstraße station were already impassable. If you were lucky enough, if you’d got here early enough even to get close to them, that is. From above, for the parasite riven pigeons sheltering in the roof, the broad concourse looked …
Jacob Sweetman 