When the wind blows cold, and the clock strikes 8pm on a weekday, long before the holiday spirit has gotten inside people, you can go to the holiday market at Alexanderplatz and you will be almost alone. You can ride by every evening on your bike, you can look at all the lights and you can hear the noise and smell the sugar and the fat cooking, but the place is empty and you're sure it's all a waste.

So you go inside, because there is also something grimly surreal about this desolate field of blinking lights and plastic. It's an eerie mechanical representation of contentment, persisting in the absence of an audience. Walking around in it, you feel oddly touched. Now you're approaching the exit, thinking about how you could represent this feeling you have, when you see a man working at a stand and there are no people there either, it's empty like everything else. That man is so bored, he's leaning against a post with a microphone in his hand. He's chanting in a monotone voice "don't miss out, don't miss out, don't miss out." Everything you are thinking is written in his body and projected in his voice, so you take out your mobile phone and make a video of him.

But your mobile phone makes bad videos, and now you're obsessed with coming back and filming him again. But, however, the holiday season is really going and there are more people.
You want your video so bad you can taste it. You're desperate.
You start filming other stands, other bored workers and streams of people moving by you stuffing food into their mouths. These people who have invaded your scene.