In the heart of Munich’s Sendling district, between busy streets and dense apartment blocks, lies an unlikely oasis known as the Sendlinger Loch (“Sendling Hole”). The site was once the beginnings of a large construction project that stalled, leaving behind a 12-meter-deep pit.
Over time, rainwater filled the cavity, creating a small but strikingly deep pool. Left to its own devices, the “lake” slowly took on a life of its own. Reeds and grasses rooted in the shallows, insects hovered over the surface, and birds began to treat it like a natural wetland. What had once been considered an eyesore gradually turned into a curious pocket of urban wilderness.
For locals, the Sendlinger Loch has become a kind of inside joke, a reminder of stalled development, but also a strangely endearing landmark that the city never intended to create. Its quiet surface reflects not only the surrounding buildings but also the ways in which nature opportunistically reclaims space, even in the middle of a metropolis.
