A cold Sunday in January envelops Düsseldorf in a silvery gray. While Königsallee lies dormant, an almost meditative silence reigns in the streets around Immermannstraße. Little Tokyo looks like an abandoned movie set from the Far East.
The biting wind sweeps across the asphalt, past closed ramen bars and dark tea shops. Where people would normally queue for gyoza, melancholy now reigns in the deserted alleys. Only a few red lanterns glow against the frost. In this frosty isolation, the neighborhood unfolds a harsh charm: Düsseldorf does not present itself here as a fashion metropolis, but as a silent observer of winter.
