Wilmersdorf. It’s a weird place.

Although I was born in the far west of Germany with its knives and karneval and other nonsense, I was raised from young age in Wilmersdorf. I was lucky to living close to the far cooler Schöneberg, so I could escape the quarter with an age average of around 246 from time to time.

Yesterday and today I revisited Wilmersdorf. There is no real reason to go there, except for visiting parents and looking at stuff in stores.