top of page
  • Writer's pictureIndia Wittmershaus

Ode to the Bahnhof

There is a place.

A spot of nature. A place of rest. Peace. Idleness.

Green grass covers the ground in wild patterns. Trees and plants line the property, as well as an old fence. Overgrown with nature.

An old building. Brick. Green shutters.

A construction trailer. Lovingly renovated.

A workshop. A roof from which you can see the sun rise.

A place in the middle of nowhere. Surrounded by fields, meadows, and nature.

A place with the name, the Bahnhof.

A small village far from the modern city.

A hidden path. An avenue. Lined with widespread plants and large trees.

There it is. The Bahnhof. The old building. In days gone by, a small train station on an active train line.

The train line is still there. Rarely used. Trains no longer stop here. Pass by, ignoring the little house.

The station would have fallen into disrepair. Fused with nature. A ruin.

It was adopted. Preserved. Changed. The name remained.

The Bahnhof. Love and time were invested.

Today, a place of peace.

Time stands still.

The wind strokes through the trees. A sound like music.

Single leaves fall. Glow red. Yellow. Turning brown.

Stars glitter in the dark. A storm is coming. Night. Brightens like the day.

Rain runs down the old brick.

Sunbeams make the grass glitter. Silver in the light of morning.

Frost makes the pipes of the house tremble. Snow settles on the tree tops.

Wildflowers struggle through the ground. The world becomes colorful.

The house opens its windows. The warm wind accepts the invitation.

Insects hum, playing their own song.

And the Bahnhof lives.

People come and go.

Sometimes few, sometimes many.

Smoke rises from the chimney. A campfire flickers cheerfully in front of the house.

Smells of food pour out of the house. Sweet. Tasty. Savory.

Music plays. Laughter. Talking. Quietness.

Sounds of all kinds.

They are working in the garden. Planting. Pruning. Watering.

Sitting in the sun. Reading. Playing. And sometimes just being.

They go for a walk. Enjoying nature. The peace.

Lively. Serene. Peaceful. Comfortable.

Usually, they don't stay long.

But they come back. Always.

There is a place. A place with the name, the Bahnhof.

Lovingly nurtured and cared for.

A place in the middle of nature. Driven by the whims of the seasons.

Inhabited by people, yet free from the constraints of civilization.

Wonderful and enchanting.


Written by India Wittmershaus.

Cover photo by India Wittmershaus.


Commenting has been turned off.
bottom of page