When we leave for home, police are massed at the S-Bahn watching the soccer supporters disembark. We take the train east, and at Warschauer Strasse station the evening hordes are streaming over the bridge to the clubs and bars in gritty Friedrichshain.
London voices behind us, a girl and boy:
“Laura said she’d love her dog as much as her child.”
“She really said that?”
“Yeah. And Ben said he’d love his dog as much as his child.”
“Yeah, Ben said that.”
“That’s so f*cked up.”
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