Life, Laughter and Everything Else

 "An end of an era", as my colleague aptly put it. It surely felt like it. After almost 3 years of memories, the occupants of the tiny office in Hackesher Markt were to be moved to one of the big, gleaming company offices, like chess pieces in the game of capitalism. After 3 years we would all start on our own ways, an eventuality we all knew was coming, just not on such a short notice. At a corporate level, such a move produced all the right words that provided visibility and hopefully a promotion and an office with a view for someone; strategic resource redistribution, cost optimisation etc etc. Though to the ones parting, that little office was one of the few solaces in this rat race. It had offered friends in the place of politically correct colleagues, it had offered juicy gossip, offered an avenue to let out all the frustration around toxic bosses and meaningless tasks, offered song and laughter at the expense of each other and the neighbors next door. It had offered co

  There is this man I see often at the S bahn station. He sits on a wheelchair just near the stairs that lead down the train from the Hackesher Markt s bahn station. At first glance, from the state of his dressing,   you would think he is one of the many beggars on the streets of Berlin, but he is not.  He makes stars.   Sitting there, I usually see him patiently folding paper into multi-sized, multi-coloured and multi-edged paper stars that he then places around himself. If anyone buys them, I don’t know. If he intended to sell them, I don’t know either.   Though it is a sight, in a corner of the station, a man building a tiny universe, star by star, with him at the center of it.