At the Gravel pond

Berlin in the summer has its own rhythm—pulsing, restless, alive. In Spandau, at a wooden bridge by the Gravel Pond, youth carve out a space for themselves in this rhythm. It’s a place of fleeting moments and lasting memories, where different generations have gathered for years, but where every summer feels like a new beginning.

The Gravel Pond is part of a nature preservation area, a place that in winter is ruled by silence—calm, untouched, dominated by nature. But when summer arrives, the youth break through this stillness, taking over the bridge and the lake, filling the air with laughter, music, and movement.

Here, teenagers meet in shifting constellations, drawn together by the promise of long days and warm nights. Some come to swim, others to sit and talk, to test boundaries, to belong. Laughter echoes over the water, music drifts from portable speakers, and the air is thick with energy—sometimes electric, sometimes tender.

Through my lens, I capture these moments—intimate, chaotic, unfiltered. The way friendships form and dissolve in an afternoon, the quiet glances between conversations, the raw, unguarded joy of youth. The Gravel Pond is not just a place; it’s a feeling, a backdrop to stories that will be told years from now, when these summers exist only in memory.

This is an ongoing series, evolving with each new season, as the next generation of youth finds its place on the wooden bridge.