Nuremberg in November
Part 1: Diary Lines
A room. A wall. A screen. I am standing there, in this room without furniture,
in this room that is made of stone. I am standing there, looking for something.
Then I see the screen. Something is written on it, but the words don't carry a
meaning. At least none that I understand.
look around. There is a place I want to go, but I am not sure of the direction.
I am not even sure of the direction I am coming from.
is more. There always is more, but today I don't mind that I can't remember the
whole dream. For today, there is more than a room waiting. Today, there is a whole
I make some mint tea
to take in a thermo. A little luxury for the way. Then I pack my bags. When I
am finished, I realize what is missing: my small diary. It really is too long
since I did a trip, it tells me when I search for it in the drawer. The last entry,
it dates back to Tuesday, 14 September. A scribbled picture underneath, spiral
arrows. Three word next to them. Turning of Tides.
them, I remember the moment I wrote them. Sitting on a hotel bed in Italy, in
a room with an ocean view. It was the last of the sun filled days in Cesenatico.
There was a rain front moving closer, ending our trip. I must have put the diary
in the wrong bag, otherwise there would be words from the drive home. But there
is nothing. Just blank space waiting.
of Tides, I read again. Outside, the sky is getting crossed by strings of color.
I turn the page, to start a new day. With a pencil, I note the date and the place
to come: 25 November. Nuremberg.
2: Frozen fields
travelogue is part of the subside travelzine
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