The snow is still falling as I step out of Hackescher Markt station. It only settles lightly on the ground, but enough to turn the city an icy white.
A gypsy woman sits huddled round an accordion on the Friedrichsbrücke, playing a slow, plaintive tune that carries far beyond the bridge, the swirling snowflakes mixing with the music's delicate melancholy.
Marx-Engels-Forum seems unusually quiet. It's usually got at least a few people gathered round it, taking turns to have their pictures taken sitting on Karl Marx's knee, or in other crazy poses. One couple does come up to take pictures, but they keep their distance, as if the snow has brought a kind of reverential calm to the place.