In the beginning of August, I made a day trip to Eberswalde with the goal of visiting the Finower Wasserturm. I’d never visited the city before - or at least, I thought so. As I wandered the streets of Finow, I had strange flickers of memory: a trip in an old Wartburg, a pause at a snack stand, cloudy weather, old patterns on buildings… just fleeting images without substance. Maybe it was another town, or maybe my memories got mixed up. Whatever it was, it stirred my imagination. Maybe it was the sometimes eerie atmosphere of abandoned industrial places scattered throughout the town.¹