Dusk. Black wires stretched over our heads and we looked up trying to follow the paths to their origins. On the sides of the open area on the roof of the “Münster Theater” we found buttons on the ends of dangling wires. Pressing one of them meant setting off church bells others triggered other sounds. Sometimes it was difficult to differentiate between the sounds of the outside world or the noise created by the installation we were standing in.
The time I spent in Münster doing my internship was an important time for the city. It was overrun with tourists, cameras around their necks, maps in hand. I regularly overhead inhabitants complaining that the tourists had been borrowed bicycles to get around and that the city was now filled with people who “didn’t know how to cycle properly”. It might be important to mention that Münster is known for its cyclists and that there are 3 times as many bicycles in the city as inhabitants. Not used to the crazed way the Münster people race around on their bicycles, I was quite glad to be able to blend into the mass, as I slowly and carefully navigated around the city on my borrowed bicycle.