The Turning of the Wheel
Dear friend
The sun is setting on Hamburg. I was lucky to find a bench outside a café where the owner served me a coffee for two euros and ten cents. The last rays of the day are shining on this one place. To my right, the rumble of the overhead railway. The flapping of pigeon wings and the roar of traffic.
I visited the Reeperbahn, which is now something of a tawdry affair—lurid pictures of female bodies advertising private sex shows and lap dancing clubs mixed with souvenir shops selling tacky goods.
For good measure, I visited the Dom funfair and rode on the Nordic Tower. The ride took me eighty metres into the air, suspended on chains. When we rose over fifty metres, the wind was so strong the seat bucked and twisted, and all I could do was relax and pray. It shifted my state, which was one of the reasons I paid over the odds for the fare—that, and to face a fear I have of heights.
Who can say for certain, but I think it will be the last time I try such a thing. I was hoping for a view over the city, but the ride spun so fast the city blurred around me as my stomach looped the loop.
When my feet touched the ground, I laughed, and it felt good to be alive, weaving through the thronging crowds, breathing in the smell of hot sugar and fried sweets.
I watched a mother and daughter navigate the exit of a “house of fun.” They had to walk through a slow revolving drum. The mother managed it first, but the girl faltered. Her mum went back for her, and hand in hand the girl found the courage and made it through.
The sun has dipped now behind the rooftops, striking the side of a passing train.
Something that struck me as sad when I was teaching were the talks given to kids about the mess our generation has left for them.
“It’s up to your generation now,” was a sentiment I heard expressed by well-meaning speakers.
Not true.
Like that mother—it’s up to us to go back and offer our hand.
It’s up to us to go first.
Together we form the world anew.
And so it ever was.
Till tomorrow
Love
Mikey