After the rain and the storm, there is a pink carpet on the asphalt. For a moment you are a star guest in your own life and you walk sublimely to the bus stop. A few hours later the flowers have disappeared and turned brown. The cherry trees look ragged and a little exhausted. Their past splendor has been captured by many smartphones.
“Here today, there tomorrow,” the song has become a catchy tune that can drive your colleagues crazy again. You need strong nerves in an open-plan office. A jackhammer roars through the open window, accompanied by a concrete mixer; asphalt will be laid later. The glass containers are emptied, you jump at the first clink and wait for the next one. First white, then colorful.
The students go home, a blur of half sentences, laughter and sharp screams, then a cyclist roars. “Close the window,” someone calls out in annoyance, and it’s also pulling. The train, as dangerous as almost anything else, responsible for headaches, lumbago, colds and general madness, you have to beware of it.
Today here, tomorrow there”, the old song about the life of a wandering bird, sounds completely different today, when there is so much going on anyway, only you can see everything around you swaying in amazement, while your legs are heavy. The dress for the school ball has a similar cut to the first dress back then. If the head wasn’t visible, no one would know how much time has passed since then.
But the flair of a graduation ball has remained the same. Excited joy, giggling uncertainty, parents in between, most of them proud, they’ve come this far and now there’s just one hurdle left.
Hello, Ms. Fessor, says a group of boys to a teacher, who greets them in a friendly manner. Oh, she wasn’t that nice all her school life. Now that farewell is imminent, people sometimes turn a blind eye. Hopefully. They are still there today. Then it’s a memory.
friederike.leibl-buerger@diepresse.obfuscationcom
