Kunstpavillon im Alten Botanischen Garten

The white flag was raised (in brief moments of turbo-capitulationism), circled the artificial Kaaba seven more times anticlockwise, and the tired lion's mane was stroked at the door, before stumbling into the beaver's den, where a lot had accumulated. In a chesty tone of doubt, The Telephant is apparently weaving away on a dream, gathering dusty, sweaty, and brand-new photographs by Koopmann around it. A good place to create small things.