U-Bahn München: 19/100 Fürstenried West

Munich underground: 19/100 Fürstenried West

It gets really a little too chilly for biking. Especially when your desired blip is 13 kilometres away (probably the longest distance you can go from my place without leaving the city limits) and you have to ride a damaged bike. "A damaged bike?" you may ask - more on this later.

So today's blip shows a new entry in my underground series. After the last episode - the overcrowded above-ground underground station near the Allianz Arena at Fröttmaning - today's entry on the one hand is really below ground again and also completely deserted just as I like it. This is Fürstenried West underground station, which was opened in 1991 and since then is the terminus of the U3 underground line.

A fitting quote I found in the book I just finished reading:
Die Schönheit braucht keine Kunst, sie braucht auch uns nicht, sie braucht keine Betrachter, im Gegenteil. Gaffende Leute nehmen ihr etwas weg, am hellsten flammt sie, wo keiner sie sieht: weite Landschaften ohne Häuser, die Wolkenspiele des frühen Abends, das verwaschene Rotgrau alter Ziegelmauern, kahle Bäume im Winternebel, Kathedralen, das Abbild der Sonne in einer Ölpfütze, die Spiegeltürme der Insel Manhattan, der Blick aus einem Flugzeugfenster, kurz nachdem man durch die Wolkendecke gestoßen ist, die Hände alter Menschen, das Meer zu jeder Tageszeit und menschenleere U-Bahn-Stationen wie diese - das gelbe Licht, das Zufallsmuster der Zigarettenstummel auf dem Boden, die abblätternden Plakate, noch immer flatternd im Fahrtwind, obwohl der Zug schon lange verschwunden ist. - Daniel Kehlmann: F

(Beauty doesn't need arts, she neither needs us, she doesn't need no beholder, quite the contrary. Gaping people steal something from her, the flame burns the brightest, where nobody is looking: wide landscapes without buildings, the act of the clouds during the early evening, the washed-out red-grey of old brick walls, barren trees in winter fog, cathedrals, the reflection of the sun in a puddle of oil, the glass towers of the island of Manhattan, the view from the window of a plane, right after breaking through the blanket of clouds, old peoples' hands, the sea at every time of the day and deserted underground stations like that one - the yellow light, the random pattern of cigarette butts on the floor, the flaking posters, still chattering in the airstream, although the train is long gone. - Daniel Kehlmann: F; own translation)

So why did I have to ride a damaged bike most of the way? Well, I had a little run-in with a car, or rather the car ran into me. The driver was rather cooperative and he realized that it was absolutely his fault (and it most definitely was). So I'm going to take my bike to the shop tomorrow and we'll see what it's going to cost (him) - I guess the front wheel is out of true and the front fork is bent, too.

By the way, first mission using my new mini-tripod.