Photography Writing
Writer working at Cafe Wintergarten in Literaturhaus, Berlin.
As a hopeless office inmate, I often fancy the idea of working in a public space—a nice café like Cafe Wintergarten at Literaturhaus1 in Berlin—but I never actually try doing it. I wonder whether its mild noise of dishes and chatter would inspire or rather distract.
Moreover, I just learned that my preferred café in Bucharest, Crem Cafe Royale, has been acquired by a local restaurant chain and will be murdered in order to make room for another mediocre luncheonette with greasy spoons.
While passing by it, I’ll murmur —The price of progress!, and I’ll keep looking the other way.
1 Right across the street from the Leica Store—even looking through its window inflicts serious damages to a bank account.
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