Or Cairo. Or Shanghai. – Only with more snow.
A truck was blocking a tram that was blocking the traffic blocking the bus that blocked the truck. And it kept snowing. Finally for once the city was making up for not being Tel Aviv or Paris. I felt like a hero, able to wind through standing traffic on my bicycle like those scooteristas in those cool warm places do all year-long.
The men in their small zippy tiny orange mini snow-plows are the Männer der Stunde. They are ruling the road, zooming cross footpaths and past tram lines taking the sharpest corners at high-speed thanks to this little knob on their wheel letting them steer with one hand only.
Behind the tram-bus-truck Gordian knot the great white silence starts.
It is only me on my bike.
Every now and then a single car gets through. It looks lost and displaced. A man is talking on the phone whilst driving on the icy snow street. But lucky he is sitting in a BMW tank.
The promised snow scan for all those bored by millions of stills of snow each winter looks very dark. Funny.