Germany Gute Nacht, Bitterfeld 10 May 2025 I'm making this note whilst already sitting on the train that will depart for Leipzig at any moment. It's half past two now. Today I'm travelling to München, and to arrive earlier, I have to improvise: unfortunately, there are no buses or trains from Wolfen to Bitterfeld at this hour, from where my first train departs, so I decided to go on foot. It's nearly ten kilometres, but that doesn't frighten me. I generally walk a lot and rarely does a day pass when I cover a shorter distance. It's just that usually it's not as noticeable because the trajectory isn't as direct as in today's case. So, whilst the driver prepares the train for the first departure, I'll try to describe what I felt and what I noticed during my walk. The situation reminded me of a day when I wandered around empty, nocturnal Moscow from midnight until early morning. However, back then, dawn came very early, and by three o'clock it was already quite light. Here, I still observe pitch darkness outside the train window. My walk began ten minutes before midnight: I decided to set off early so as not to rush and to have some spare time in case it turned out that the journey would take longer. Wolfen's emptiness no longer surprises me, as it can be found in this state in the early morning and on a normal, not-too-late evening. However, there wasn't a sound in my neighbourhood: no cars, no people. A very loud silence. This silence, whilst I was walking through my neighbourhood, was suddenly interrupted by the sound of water gurgling. I looked around and remembered that a fountain was hidden here behind the bushes, which had recently been restored to working order and, as it turned out, it works even at night. It was very unusual to observe. Such an interesting musical instrument at the city's disposal. Funny that just yesterday morning it showed no signs of life, and here, under the cover of night, it suddenly came alive. What is remarkable is that it began operating precisely at the moment when I was passing by, as the sound appeared suddenly. Although, perhaps I was just absorbed in my thoughts and my brain added this detail itself. Who knows. In any case, it's beautiful. Heading towards the Jeßnitz railway station, my gaze caught on the Stadtwerke chimney, which attracted my attention with bright red signal lights. This contrasted very beautifully with the dark blue sky that lay just behind the chimney, with bright speckles of stars. Nearby, I discovered a company of several people, some sitting on a bench, some standing, and one of them was saying something quietly. As soon as I approached, the person fell silent, and everyone silently looked at me. It was dark, and I couldn't see their faces, but I greeted them. One of them quietly greeted me back. Only when I had moved a considerable distance away from them did they start talking again. Ahead of me lay a bridge over the railway tracks, on which I discovered a young lad and a couple of bicycles standing next to him. I greeted him too, and he also echoed me, almost in a whisper. Apparently, his friend was somewhere else, or he was waiting for his train to arrive. I descended from the bridge and proceeded to the path that my maps invited me to take. Unfortunately, the path was not illuminated at all, and, moreover, as I proceeded, it became narrower and narrower, with dense jungle all around me. The light from my phone's torch didn't help much, so I decided to just let my eyes adjust to the darkness and go that way. After walking a bit further, I left Wolfen and found myself in Jeßnitz. For some time, I walked along an illuminated road, but afterwards I had to turn and found myself on a road without streetlights. Or perhaps they were there but not working: I didn't pay attention to this. But I did notice how bright the moon was, and, surprisingly, its light was enough for me to see the road I was walking on. Everything around me was bathed in moonlight: the trees, the road, the bushes. The landscape seemed somehow ghostly because of it. It felt as if I were dreaming. A total sense of derealisation. I had experienced this only once before: when I left Russia and found myself in Georgia. Then too, everything seemed somehow unreal. After walking a bit further, I spotted in the distance the lights from factories, which from here looked like some unusual castles. Due to the abundant illumination, it was easy to see smoke rising from the chimneys. As I got closer and closer to the factories, I suddenly heard a growing rumble and thought it was coming from them. But no: it turned out to be a train heading towards Dessau. The rolling thunder of the train, whose illuminated windows from a distance looked like a perforation in a film strip, made me stop for a few moments to absorb the structure of the moment. Yes, it was truly captivating, though so simple. In the pitch darkness, my reptilian brain constantly searched for various beasts in the emerging silhouettes, and it was interesting to observe this game it played. After a while, however, my brain had to distract itself to solve another no less interesting puzzle: the pedestrian path had ended, and ahead was only a motorway. "Well," I thought, "now I'll be a car," and off I went. However, after a couple of minutes, I spotted a cyclist illuminating his path with a torch, and, as it turned out, all this time to my right there had been a bicycle and pedestrian path. Well, it happens: in such darkness, it was perfectly normal not to notice it. I had to dismount and stop being a car. Well, what can you do. As I approached the factories, the noise coming from them grew louder, and when I got up close, it occurred to me that factories at night were very much like some huge sleeping organism. Huge and snoring, yes. The absence of any hint of human presence there made the sight even more captivating. What else could this factory resemble? Perhaps an alien base. Yes, perhaps. An alien base. While I was pondering this, an ambulance passed by with deafening wails along with an accompanying car. A few moments, and the town again plunged into utter silence. And I trudged on. After passing through Greppin and finally finding myself inside Bitterfeld, I realised that I roughly knew where I was, and I no longer needed the help of the map. Another fifteen minutes and I was at the railway station, where a train from Leipzig arrived a couple of minutes later. The station attendant announced over the loudspeaker that passengers couldn't board the train yet. I had to freeze a bit outside. I'm finishing this note already on the train from Leipzig to Zwickau, and I'm off to doze. I need to gather strength because the coming day promises to be very eventful. Copyright (c) 2025 contact@renecoignard.com Powered by Weblog v1.18.9