Back on the tram to Hauptbahnhof
Here we are again, in the tram. We’re now heading downtown. There are five stops before ours; we’ll get off at the sixth stop, Essen Hauptbahnhof.
Think back to Stoppenberg. Would you recognize the place if you got off there again? It’s changed for you, hasn’t it? You’ve spent time there, you’ve looked behind the scenes, you’ve hung out there and changed things through your presence. Stoppenberg is no longer foreign to you and Stoppenberg is now a part of our shared history. Now that you’ve been there, nothing will be the same as it was before. For example, a stone that once belonged there is now gone forever.
You brought it with you, didn’t you? And for you, nothing will ever be the same, either.
Will you tell people about our journey, or will it remain our secret? Look out the window and take a moment to think about your experiences. They are still yours alone. Don’t look in the book again until the tram has passed the Herzogstrasse stop.
Welcome back.
While preparing for our trip, I found out that not all tram stops on the 107 are accessible. For example, the stop Herzogstrasse is accessible, but Krankenhaus Stoppenberg is not. I had to think about how to make this trip free of obstacles for people in wheelchairs. I found my solution. What would yours be?
In the process, I had to ask myself what makes a decision voluntary. How many privileges do you have to enjoy in order to be able to make a voluntary decision?
What’s the basis of our decisions?
What are the presuppositions of your decisions?
Do you think the decisions you made on our trip were always voluntary?
Or did one always inevitably lead to the other? Have your past decisions and experiences influenced you on our journey?
Can you even say with certainty where and when our journey began?
My journey with you begins right now, as I write these sentences for you. And you don’t even know yet that I exist.
Just a moment ago you were in Stoppenberg, wandering through different dimensions. Now you’re sitting in the tram and I’m still at my desk.
In Stoppenberg you saw some things and not others. Maybe you’ll see them on your next trip. Maybe never.
For you, the interdimensional photo wallpaper is now torn; it is likely that from now on, you, like me and many others before you, will live only in fragments of time, in kaleidoscopic interdimensional states—that you’ll wander through the world like that. If you were at home right now you could get comfortable in your armchair, your bed, or hammock, and concentrate only on reading and thinking. But that’s another situation for another book, another story. As you might have noticed throughout the past hour and a half or so: I don’t think sitting back is advisable.
Please turn to page 64.