berlin diaries: grunewald fairy tale forest
I went on a new years walk with my flatmate F to Grunewald Forest, which was a 45 min bus ride outside of Berlin. the air felt smoky and still — like it was a place that hadn’t been disturbed in hundreds of years. as if, somewhere deep inside the forest, there was still a fairy tale taking place.
I felt inspired by the color palette of this place: the deep greens, smoky greys, and sepia browns. all that seemed missing was a bright, crimson red: of wild berries, or red lips, or a poisoned apple…
the trees looked like a lattice work of intricate lace. opening upwards into the nothingness of air, dreams, possibility. they could touch places in the sky. and by looking at them, I felt like I could touch it too.
and if you weren’t too afraid of the darkening cold, this was a magical place to get lost. apparently, Germans seem to like the idea of hiking, because it felt crowded by forest standards. everyone had their dogs, and wore muted earth tones. it was like attending a secret party, where the forest itself was the host — there was no end and no beginning and no boundaries.
I would come again. I’ll come with my ear ready to listen to the forest, and write down the fairy tales it’s asking me to retell.
