The giants are still watching us from beyond rooftops of sumptuous buildings. Distant bodies hidden in autumn fog, none of the few tourists mixed in evening street crowds will get freaked out by such immense legs of cold glass and heavy steel.
Their glacial blue gaze moves slowly, sweeping the streets in a never tiring consideration. Why are they staring? You can't read anything in their huge yet expressionless eyes. Is it icy and remote curiosity for the colorful and chaotic patterns of our holiday errands? Could they do it for protection, maybe against ourselves? Are they studying us like a foreign species of minuscule ants?
Locals don't ask such questions anymore, they learned to live along concrete giants, to ignore their omnipresence and carry on the nightfall rush. Only tourists notice sometimes a minor shift in the expression of a giant, stop to take a foggy picture to show back home, then walk away towards a dark weizen Schöfferhofer beer, to warm from inside, to forget the shivers of those chilly and piercing looks coming from far away and far up, from the tops of the steel giants of Frankfurt.
