I have said it before. Germans and me, Germany and me, there is something there. There will be time for teflection afterwards but maybe a heads up
? They are forthcoming. They are polite. They dont go around meddling with my business. But whenenever I am standing there in the middle of the street looking forlorn and helpless (this does happen quite a lot mind you) they always offer their help l. Can I help you? Where is it you want to go?
Older men, my fathers age, want to know where I am.heading. Ah….the old days. When they used to walk in the Austrian and Bavarian Alps. They have this look of jealousy and quiet in their eyes. Where I am going they cant go no more. But they have the memory that I still need to create. Yet they are still jealous. Of course.
They like to explain to me how it works down here. What is allowed and what isn’t. When they are in office, whatever type of office, they need to explain to me the impossibilities. And sometimes they wink at me and show me the loop holes. That’s when I love them.
And sure I like them. They are romantics, just like me. We may not see eye to eye on many points but still. We are first of all people. I am like you or them. They are, funnily enough, not so much different from the English or the French. Or thr Belgians for that matter.
And the really funny thing is, am I walking them or are they walking me?