Schism Symphony

In my adopted home of Berlin, it’s possible to cycle past the Konzerthaus, the Staatsoper, the Komische Oper and the Philharmonie in the space of around 10 minutes, 15 if you’re pedaling flaneur-style. On a warm weekend, tourists drift down Unter den Linden, a large boulevard leading to the Brandenburg Gate, like schools of fish; they turn here and there at the whim of their selfie sticks, taking it all in—rucksacks on their chests, cameras out, ready to be enamored and pickpocketed. The Konzerthaus and Staatsoper are squat nearby, in the heart of the city; the Philharmonie, on the other hand, lies a few kilometers away, alone save for a couple of galleries and a library, built at the edge of the former West in the early 1960s to replace those cultural institutions that found themselves on the other side of the wall. To get there, you need to traverse the expansive and soulless Potsdamer Platz, before crossing a large intersection and heading for a highway bridge. There are no prizes for guessing which institution is more successful at enticing our slow-moving, photo-happy, daytime beer drinking friends.