N.52°29.280, E.13°22.336

In the summer the no-man’s-land by the S-Bahn tracks is a secret garden. Follow the path off the main road, through the thick undergrowth, past a derelict building and eventually you emerge into a sunlit oasis. Berlin invisible behind the dense trees.

White sand has been imported, a makeshift bar had been constructed and music drifts across the 16 beach volleyball courts. Every now and then an S-Bahn train rumbles past on its way to the city’s centre.

Now though chunks of ice have been lying on the pavement for weeks. I’ve never thought of water as a proper solid before. Ice is supposed to be something that is there in the morning or comes from the fridge – a fragile temporary condition not a stable rock for. I’ve seen ice landscapes in far-flung places but I’ve never seen it take over a city.

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