statistically, berlin is a comparatively green city. it seems particularly green to its inhabitants in the spring because for half a year before that it was particularly cold, grey and gravelly.

when it finally gets warmer, berlin of course remains berlin and „overgrown“ in every sense of the word. the once beautifully green planned places are disturbed by the most diverse necessities, while elsewhere green is so rampant that no weed seems to grow. where neighbourhoods are or become desolate, wild green is not far away. where things are being spruced up, strictly domesticated green is part of it. there is a real battle going on between desired, tolerated and hostile green. whereby, in view of the same basic colour, it is hardly possible to separate friend from foe - and that is the luck of the berliner.

because he takes it as it is. he won't rejoice with all his heart, he rather grins tolerantly and complacently into the sun and into the urban green, as he grumbles into the grey. he ignores the artificiality of the circling greenery as well as the traffic roaring invisibly everywhere in the oh-so-green tiergarten.

leaving the city for the supposedly real green is doubly not worth it: firstly, it's much too far and the journey through the endless suburbs is really no pleasure. and then all the green out there is just useful green, be it field, forest or meadow. the „wild“ animals have long since noticed this, and so fox and hare, wild sow and raccoon now seek their happiness in the city. and now tolerate us here. ___ whoever finds the rabbit gets to grin!