Dear Summer,
Your visits to us this year in Munich were very timid,
tentative and lacking in confidence. Why did you not make the kind of grand
entrance you used to? It was wonderul when you barged into the calendar and simply
took over a chunk of our year, never to let it go for weeks and weeks and
weeks.
Or is my memory coloured by nostalgia more
than precise recall? Perhaps. Although when I contemplate my collection of
photographs from seasons past it certainly looks as if there were months on end
of balmy temperatures and blue skies.
Oh well, dear Summer, I shall forgive you I
suppose. And I’ll give you chance to surprise me in the year of my
seventy-fifth birthday, to delight me once more. Come to us with your blessings
again, and stick around for longer than just the occasional weekend. I shall be
waiting hopefully at an outside table at the renovated Café Schwabing. Until
then, goodbye!
With fond regards,
Sandlander
1 comment:
Schnief!
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