The Union

BESIDE the train tracks at the Kln Messe/Deutz station, some statues of equestrian kings have been weathered green over the centuries. Tucked in amongst the trees and the jumble of cables, they are like old iron dumped there because no one knows where to get rid of them. To me, they looked like figures trying to get their horses to move, but the road ahead had vanished. The 21st century has put what remains of kings in a space bereft of meaning.

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