Thursday is the day that T. and I often take the bus. Not always the whole line, but as long as possible and then back again, because you also perceive the opposite route differently. On this bus day in the early dark blue of the evening, we take the M45 towards Spandau at the zoo. The metropolitan feeling that City West gives us stops many stations, even though the bus is almost empty. Otto-Suhr-Allee, Spandauer Damm, we follow the main arteries in heavy traffic, look at a carpet made of sheet metal. Charlottenburg Palace is silent about this rush hour spectacle, what should it say about it.
Stopping on the bridge at the Westend S-Bahn station, we look down at the motorway and the trains and feel a little sublime, like in a Ferris wheel when it stops and our own gondola floats right at the top. The city thins out over the next few stops, and with it the traffic.
We pass the Machandelweg stop, nobody is waiting, nobody wants to get off. I think that’s a shame because I like the sound of “Machandel” and have just read the book of the same name. The tongue makes a nice movement when you say it, knocking very softly on the roof of the mouth at the end.
Quiet life. T. also thinks about sound, because she says: “Peace of mind. What a beautiful word actually ”. I nod. I’ve never noticed that before. For me it was the terminus of the U2 until today. Now I know that a lot of people get on the bus there and that there is a crematorium one station away. “Ruhleben” sounds different again.
During the wine that follows, we talk about the names of stations. I leaf through my notebook and find ideas about names for streets and squares that sound huge and historic, such as Airlift Square or United Nations Square. Words like history books. I wrote about how good it is when the buses stop in between at signs that simply say “Steinplatz” or “Schwarzmeerstraße”.
So Thursday is also a day of words and pondering about them. I still have to find out why it works so well when driving the bus. Perhaps because street names have a special meaning at bus stops. Because you get read to them. “Next stop” always sounds, and suddenly I also find the word “stop” very nice in these shaky times.