In which there is some people watching and a lot of legs.

I'd just managed to snag a forward-facing seat on the train at the ever-bustling Jungfernstieg stop when my suspiciously non-bustling wagon was suddenly innundated by a colorful flood of young hipsters. I braced myself for the wave of noise that usually follows such acts of nature, and when none came I braced myself harder in case the sound had drawn back in a solid tsunami of teenage word gush that would break any moment. Still nothing. Befuddled, I peeked in their general direction and saw that yes, they were talking up a tumult, but seeing as I can't hear with my eyes/don't understand sign language, all that washed over me was the choppy breezing of their handspeak. Two minutes later they all flowed out into the Hauptbahnhof. I watched them trickle up the escalators and sheepishly thought about stereotyping.

Later, the sun's barcode shadows turned the train into a strobing disco as we wooshed past thin, scantily-clad trees. I watched the bumblebee-striped light dance across the first-round rush hour faces and contemplated one of my favorite StoryPeople quotes:   

My favorite time of day is just at dark
when all thoughts of what must be done
stop & small pools of light come alive on
tired faces everywhere.

And on a completely unrelated note, Hamburg's got some supersized arachnid royalty residing in the art musuem.

If I was a spider princess, she said, I
would spin webs the color of sky & catch
drops of sunlight to give to children who
watch too much TV & then everyone
would remember to come outside to play.
If I was a spider princess, she said, things
would be different.