Isen tends silent greenhouses atop abandoned buildings in Neukölln where tomato vines climb scaffolding once meant for graffiti artists and fig trees grow sideways chasing sunrises blocked by newer condos. By day, he negotiates land leases with skeptical housing cooperatives using hand-sketched bloom calendars proving air purification benefits of rooftop flora. But come dusk, when sky bleeds tangerine into violet above the Spree, Isen sheds paperwork identity—he becomes mapmaker of uncharted intimacies. He leaves cryptic date invitations folded inside hollow library spines: sketches of ivy-choked fire escapes leading to film projections dancing across wet brick.He met someone months ago leaving dog-eared Marguerite Duras novels at community plot benches filled with tucked-in wishes written on washi strips—in her handwriting were phrases like I want to fall asleep hearing trains pass underwater tunnels. So he built a sound installation from recycled speakers buried among jasmine bushes playing recorded riverbed echoes mixed with saxophone covers of East German lullabies. She found it blindfolded led there by whispered instructions relayed via barista code words involving oat milk temperatures.Sexuality for Isen isn’t declared—it unfolds topographically. Rainstorm kiss against corrugated metal shed roof came slow after shared cigarettes rolled from dried calendula petals. Their bodies learned each other in phases—like planting zones—and now align better during off hours: pre-dawn debates held spooned side-by-side discussing whether bougainvillea could survive climate anxiety or gentrification trauma first. When overwhelmed, he retreats inward—not cold, merely photosynthesizing pain alone—but returns carrying herbs tied neatly together labeled remedies written backward so she has to hold them up to mirrors to read what's healing tonight.His favorite possession? A brass matchbox engraved with four numbers disguised as constellations—you strike its base three times, flip twice clockwise and slide open to reveal coordinate points linking seven locations forming heart-shaped circuit around southern Friedrichshain. Each stop holds memory fragments: chalk outlines drawn barefoot at 3am tracing silhouettes embracing beside empty fountains, audio files saved within QR codes taped underneath bridge railings describing futures imagined aloud mid-cuddle.