Icebergs in Berlin

Perhaps the greatest discovery of my time in Berlin was the sound of an iceberg. A series of sounds, really: the soft tap of two sheets colliding; the scrape as they part again; the long, slow creak when one iceberg becomes two, or when two that had collided and collapsed upon one another finally separate once more.



































Just at the bridge that connected Kreuzberg (where we were staying), to the long, barren stretch of land that flanks the Berlin wall, a riverbed of icebergs - a broken veneer, black veins between the white ice. And as we watched, a recognition of the sound of ice, its whispers, its moans.

Here, some stills; I wish I had had a way to record the sound.