You don't pass by here by chance – you come because you want to. The Havel Heights Trail winds through the trees like a thought you can't shake. Sometimes uphill over roughly set stone steps, sometimes just on springy forest floor. Below, the water glitters, a constant promise between the trunks.
Then, suddenly, the foliage thins – and the view opens up. The Havel River lies there like a stage, deep blue or gray, depending on the mood of the sky. Over there, Spandau, far away and yet there. In front of it, boats, seagulls, sometimes just silence.
The wind smells of bark, of the sea and freedom. Those who stand here don't think about appointments. Maybe of Berlin, but different. Quieter. Further. Old trees line the path; you hear the creaking of a jetty, the gentle lapping on a hidden shore.
It's one of those places that want nothing – and yet give you everything. A vantage point for the soul. Not a spectacle, but an image that remains.