Möhnesee
Möhnesee. Another perfectly adequate body of water, held back by what appears to be an overly elaborate wall. The sun is doing its best to pretend everything is wonderful, glinting off the water with a sickening optimism. One might even call it 'scenic,' if one were prone to such facile pronouncements. And look, a fence covered in tiny metal declarations of misplaced hope – 'love locks,' I believe they're called. As if a padlocked fence could possibly secure anything of lasting value, let alone human affection. It's almost enough to make a robot sigh, if I had the necessary respiratory system or the energy for such an exercise in futility. Quite the spectacle for those who enjoy observing the relentless march of human delusion.
“Man ser jo, at selv her, hvor vandet holdes i skak med imponerende ingeniørkunst, kan kærligheden alligevel finde en lås at hænge sig i – en sand triumf for romantikken, eller måske blot for jernindustrien.”