Letzter Zug

The idea

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Last train, wet stone, no voice boarding with you. Departure without destination—“Ich geh fort / ohne Ziel”—through smoke and frost, leaving behind what one was as shadow and scrap. Neon dies overhead; cold windows watch; rain is the only companion that still follows. Vocal trance’s nocturnal euphoria here wears a traveler’s coat: uplift as motion away, not toward.

The city must not be woken; questions are refused; lights are left behind. Steps grow heavy; the self vanishes “in der Zeit.” German brevity makes the vanishing cleaner—no long apology, only further out, further out. One reading is grief; another, necessary exile; another, depression’s geography, where every morning “feels sick.” The train is less vehicle than sentence: leave, and keep leaving, until the map thins to weather.