This Easter --with the shroud of Corona over everything, is different. The sun is out, a broad Berlin welcome to Spring and so are the Berliners. The Krone bike path is full, where normally at this time of year it is empty. Here is what I wrote two years ago:

The rain had reduced to occasional showers and even the sun had made an appearance so I stole out of the house to ride. My body wanted the work. South west as often, through the forest, into the wind, and then the hills. A battling ride as they say. Down by the old spy bridge the water was choppy. I saw few people, except the odd mad cyclist and the usual dog walkers. There was a definite sense of the country starting to pause, a collective inhalation and settling back into a favourite chair. Easter was almost ready, the quiet starting to permeate. I detoured around the empty roads of the industrial estate that would be teeming on a work day with commercial vehicles and then back, up through the forest, towards my repose and indeed, favourite chair.