Closing Time on the Marketplace
Life plays out in front of the ground floor's Gothic arched windows: at the standing table, a merchant offers his wares, his counterpart skeptically strokes his chin as he inspects them, a dachshund watches patiently. Two children stroll past hand in hand, and from the archway steps the night watchman with lantern and floppy hat, beginning his round. As soon as the clock strikes, he sets off, as if making his way through the lanes at dusk.
At the edge, a small wooden signpost points to Frankfurt, Heidelberg and Freiburg, chained bollards line the sand-strewn square. The longer you look, the more you discover, just like a real marketplace shortly before nightfall.