The way to the hidden realm leads through a boiler room. No daylight penetrates here, not a breath of fresh air. In the basement of the old tax office in Hamburg-Altona, very close to the train station, it smells musty. Not damp, rather after a long life – and after an infinite amount of paper.
The old man rented this room as an archive and has been spending many hours a day here for years. All alone. Meter after meter of shelf bends around him under the weight of history. “This is where it starts, my archive,” he says, picking up one of 8,000 black files.
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