The walk to the train station is short, all the shorter when a bus happens along just as I turn the corner by the supermarket. I am already tired of the walk—there is nothing beautiful along the path and yet the dilapidation has yet to reach the point of romantic fantasy.
But within the corner of town where we live, there is beauty. If I am picky about where I point the camera, it would be easy to pretend that there are no blocky post-war housing blocks. This morning I set off under blue sky with my laptop on my back to spend a few hours at my favorite cafe (free wifi, vegan food with no soy, yummy local iced tea, fresh pressed orange juice…), only to find that the cafe wasn’t open for another half hour. So instead, this:
(Above: These little plaques have the names of Jewish folks who were taken off and killed during Hitler’s jerk-regime. You see them everywhere, and it is a really effective memorial. Maybe America should do this for the native Americans…)