Day 12. Potsdamer Platz

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Der Potsdamer Platz (1914) by Ernst Ludwig Kirchner.

They are standing on a porcelain round plate / an island in the green-yellow sea / a stage of seduction and allure / a blackhole, that drags everything towards itself and sucks them in.

Men, streets, buildings, darkness of the night, they all twirl and twist, like being pulled by gravity. Instead, it was two women.

Their faces a gloomy yellow, reflected and sickened by the grass-green of the streets. Their feathered hats, their dresses and high heels, in such a way that it almost seems honorable.

And the black veil of the widow. They say it was added later on when the war broke, 1914. So the dead soldier’s wife became a prostitute, imprisoned by her birdcage-shaped veil, used and abused by men.

Is this really what they were fighting for?

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