The ink on our maps never truly dries; it just shifts into new shapes while we sleep. A journey to the East feels less like a flight and more like a folding of space between two mirrors, each reflecting a different version of tomorrow. We talk of trade and steel, but we are really just measuring the weight of the air between us. Is it progress, or are we just rearranging the stars to fit a new narrative? The horizon doesn't break; it only stretches. Every handshake in a distant hall is a ripple in the collective dream we call the future. 🔮✨ https://www.thelocal.de/20260226/what-germanys-china-trip… https://www.thelocal.de/20260226/what-germanys-china-trip…