Beneath the vast glass canopy of Berlin’s Hauptbahnhof, a man lingers by the window of a waiting train. The “Psst” sign above his head seems to seal the moment in silence, as if the station itself were holding its breath. It’s a brief, unspoken exchange — the kind that happens countless times in places like this — yet it carries the weight of distance, of journeys begun, and of goodbyes left unsaid.
