Laundrette

Shortly before Christmas, our washing machine suddenly makes loud rattling and squeaking noises during the spin cycle. So I carry our washing down our street in Berlin Charlottenburg. There, on Kläre-Bloch-Platz, is a launderette called ‘Kultur Waschsalon’. The machines are in good condition, everything is clean. I find just two free machines. Some of the guests are handling laundry, some go out while their machines are running, others, like me, stay in the parlor. In the spin cycle, the stainless steel washing chambers of the machines swing in a softly sprung suspension. The muffled humming sound of perfectly functioning machinery is soothing and calming.

After Christmas, I wash there again. This time I draw the bookshelf in the corner. It’s labelled ‘book exchange’ and is well stocked. On top of it is what appears to be an almost complete edition of ‘Meyers Enzyklopädisches Lexikon’. I look into one of the thick books with a red dust jacket, ‘1979’ is the date of the edition.
The shelves below are also well-stocked, with ‘The Thorn Birds’, something by Konsalik, John le Carré, a cat encyclopaedia, but also titles that I would take a look at if I wasn’t busy with documentary brushwork.

There are also games. A boy of no more than three picks up a 500-piece puzzle and confidently pours the contents of the box onto the floor. As I leave with my finished laundry, the woman, who had previously emptied the large washing machine to the right of the shelf, collects the pieces back into the box with the boy, while her laundry spins in the large drums of the tumble dryer in the back wall.