Tuesday, July 22, 2003
Been a ways away
Three hours ago I was waiting to get on a plane that would take me out of Hamburg.
Sixteen hours ago I had just stumbled home wonderfully footsore and slightly drunk from the Duckstein festival. I had walked completely unawares into a town square where two Argentinian comics entertained the crowd, then sat down to enjoy a blues band playing on a makeshift stage above the water, and then ended the night with austern und rosewein by the canal. Not a bad way to spend an evening.
Twenty-four hours ago I was still training the Peter Cremer operations staff on how to enter transactions in the WES. My "great project".
Forty-four hours ago I took my first walk down the Alsterrofer and marvelling at the beauty of Hamburg, the former port town turned financial outpost. The city was quietly baking in 34 degree heat. A profound loneliness touched me as I walked the empty streets, just like that time in Munich - the feeling that disappearing that day would hardly matter to anyone.
Sixteen hours ago I had just stumbled home wonderfully footsore and slightly drunk from the Duckstein festival. I had walked completely unawares into a town square where two Argentinian comics entertained the crowd, then sat down to enjoy a blues band playing on a makeshift stage above the water, and then ended the night with austern und rosewein by the canal. Not a bad way to spend an evening.
Twenty-four hours ago I was still training the Peter Cremer operations staff on how to enter transactions in the WES. My "great project".
Forty-four hours ago I took my first walk down the Alsterrofer and marvelling at the beauty of Hamburg, the former port town turned financial outpost. The city was quietly baking in 34 degree heat. A profound loneliness touched me as I walked the empty streets, just like that time in Munich - the feeling that disappearing that day would hardly matter to anyone.
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