Christmas Morning, 2025

Christmas Day is bright and clear, at the expense of the temperature: it was already -7°C yesterday evening, and it hasn't become any warmer. Car traffic is sparse, but more audible now, although one can hear the church bells well despite the layer of sound.

The youngest brothers, my mother and I have had breakfast: bread rolls with or without raisins, cheese, cold cuts, with tea and coffee. We have also started on our Christmas plates: Spekulatius, chocolate-coated gingerbread hearts filled with jam, Nürnberger Lebkuchen, fondant stars and shapes, sugar-speckled jelly shapes, Marzipankartoffeln, Pfeffernüsse, and satsuma oranges. Aside from the poinsettia-patterned tablecloth that my father's mother gave us in the 1990s, we also lighted tapered candles and tea lights. Then we sang two Christmas carols in the living room, beside the tree, which J. decorated yesterday evening.

Early this afternoon, a neighbour rang our doorbell to pick up a parcel, and we've been mildly busy on social media; but aside from that we've had little contact with the outside world.

I've been reading a book and thinking about whether I really feel like going outside again.

At midnight I'd had a little excursion to take photographs and out of sheer curiosity about who is still up and about at 11:59 p.m. at Christmas Eve in our neighbourhood. Frost was forming on the windowpanes and roofs of cars, Christmas lights twinkling sparsely from the apartment blocks, pedestrians were far and few between, but quite a few windows were alight. And at Nollendorfplatz, as always, the fluorescent bands of rainbow colour were glowing on the cupola of the U-Bahn station.