It was the last unrenovated building in Prenzlauer Berg, and all who came to inspect its weathering tiers fell (inwardly) to their knees in veneration. When she lay on her bed she could feel everything she’d used to look so ardently forward to fall behind her like old-growth redwoods thundering to the forest floor as the tree-huggers were escorted out of the woods in handcuffs on the back of a logging truck, supine like the lumber.