… and back again, to the magical mixture of clean, high air, friends (old and new), chemical free beer, home brewed schnapps and to-die-for cakes.
To Linz via a Germanic-efficient and very dramatic “go-around” (aborted landing) at Frankfurt’s massive hub. Arriving late at the “Blue Danube” airport. Which must have disrupted the lives of people who were collecting me … though you would not know it from their greetings.
Life moves on different wheels here. The pace is human and addictive, relaxing and energising. People are friendly first, ask questions later: no pressure, smiles are big, generosity bigger.
She’s way past numbers, He’s given up counting; Their eyes, their lives So full of history’s snow Neither can remember the Last time they Enjoyed the silver powder thunder. She can’t hear what the one-armed drummer is saying, He just can’t quite recognise tune the blue guitarist is playing: Does either of them realise, Does either of them care any more, that It’s the doll-devil they’re paying? Hey-ho, there’s just one letter’s difference Between the bomb And the final, sad, slip-away mistake.