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aricsqueen

aricsqueen

Aric S. Queen

<a href='/tag/denmark' target='_blank'>#denmark</a>🇩🇰

184d 14h 15m 33s

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    Long hair freaky people need not apply. #Berlin

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    THE @fontainejess_ of THE @fontainephoto_ came to visit this weekend and brought her #canonae1program film camera and took some fantastic shots, so I'm going to be posting them sporadically. Here's me slightly overdressed for an adventure in the woods. - #Berlin #filmcamera #fontainephoto #stetson #hat

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    Smitten by the symmetry of #Berlin's Olympic Stadium.

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    Just your average #Berlin church floor.

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    "You're waiting for a train. A train that will take you far away. You know where you hope the train will take you, but you can't know for sure. Yet it doesn't matter. Now, tell me why?" - #Berlin by @fontainejess_

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    Classic 1940s example of a #German wifi password.

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    Atop one of #Berlin's highest hills is an old listening station. It's fascinating and maybe you've seen photos of it before. But what's almost as interesting is that it's a man-made hill built almost entirely of rubble from WWII. And it's a big hill. A very big hill. Big enough for the American and British forces to set up their spying instruments here. I digress. What you see here is a fallen tree - 60 feet (18 meters) in length. Trees grow around 15 feet every 10 years. Meaning in 1970, this old fireplace grill - probably belonging to a house that was bombed here in Berlin in the 40s - was used to build a hill that grew a tree and then it toppled over exposing what it's roots had been grabbing onto for 4 decades. I know nothing about history and admittedly had to cross-reference those aforementioned dates online, but how you can't find this shit unbelievably fascinating is beyond me. A design, botany and history lesson all in one. And all from a hike. Wonderful.

  • aricsqueen

    Seemingly unchanged since the 1936 Olympics, #Berlin's Olympiske Stadium - a.k.a. "The place where Jessie Owen's 4 gold medals suggested to an-attending Hitler that perhaps his race wasn't so master." Cold, brutalist architecture and so wonderfully creepy.

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    Good morning, #Berlin

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    Nights in #Berlin

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    FOUND: Australian speaking French on the streets of #Berlin. If anyone knows of a kind home, please contact me. Kindness, hair fabulousness and photography skills make up for her wanting to put an egg on her hamburger and calling flip-flops "thongs". Major reward! (That can be paid in cash or to wired to my PayPal, PM for details.)

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    I love sausages. #Berlin

  • aricsqueen

    If you didn't walk to the back of the market, you wouldn't have even noticed him there, standing quietly behind his little table full of dusty knick-knacks. A set of worn shoes, a few watches, a basket, some old tools, juxtapositioned almost hilariously right next to the bio-friendly wine seller. I had a few minutes to kill before meeting up with a friend, so I walked over and had a look - more out of curiosity for him as opposed to his sad little setup. A wallet - the one you see here - stood out and I motioned the universal sign for "How much?" - rubbing my thumb and index + middle finger together. He looked down at the wallet for a few seconds and raised both hands and all fingers - "10". 10 Polish Złoty. 3 bucks. It was a great deal and I was enjoying our game of charades and handed him some coins, but before taking them, he grabbed this this old jewelry box - opening it and closing it and turning it over with familiarity, but I smiled and mouthed "No thanks" and walked away. I guessed his age for 80s, and quickly did the math as to what wars he might have witnessed. Old people in Europe have always seen lots of war, and it's something that I always wonder. My friend arrived a few minutes later and I wanted her to meet him - if for no other reason than for to break down the language barrier. He smiled when he saw us and immediately handed her the same box with the same presentation he had shown me. I could tell she didn't really want it, but whatever story he was telling her worked. Her smile went from genuine to sad and she opened her wallet. "Pick out something" whispered. "I already did", I whispered back, showing her my wallet. "Pick out something else". She said it in a way that wasn't going to be argued over, so I grabbed an old scale. She paid for both and we walked away. "Thanks for the gift" I said, "nice box". She turned it over in her hands the same way he did. "It was his wife's", she said softly. "A lot of those things there were hers." The crowded room got seemingly quiet as that sank in. Did he need the money, or closure? Did the town let him in each week? Suddenly, I was no longer thinking about what he saw in the war, but who he saw it with.