Maybe somebody still finds more uses?

Thanks Clarissa for the Link!

Streetfurniture

Nowadays cafés and bars not only put out uncomfortable chairs, grandma’s sofa is looking quite well. Spring also is starting at the exespool on the corner Wühlischstraße/Gabriel-Max-Straße.

Crumbling Simon-Dach-Straße

The house Simon-Dach-Straße 7 in the meantime probably is the only house not having had a makeover in the street. Just a couple of years ago the others looked like it as well.

Vesperwald

There are quite a few exotic shops with, say, Italian, African or Russian specialities. Nowadays there obviously are enough people with an even more exotic origin in our quarter that a shop with specialities of the Black Forest seems to work out.

Vesperwald, Wühlischstr. 36.

E. had lost her secure family quite early. Her father had dared to start court proceedings against a catholic foundation in an inheritance quarrel. This was bound to be unsuccessful, in Rhineland-Palatinate such a foundation has the best connections to the courts in the state. In principle this family counted as local celebrities, her grandfather was responsible for many buildings in the spa quarter of this small town, but his son-in-law was not really able to judge the risks. Suddenly the family was impounded to a minimum living wage, these local celebrities suddenly did not know how to finance a winter coat.

First the father died worn down and also her mother did not live to see the final positive judgement by the German high court. Even the last family tradition seemed to slip away and therefore E. decided to fight for the rented flat of her parents, a poor substitute for the original detached house in the spa quarter. Suddenly I was left alone in the big city Hamburg and spent many nights from Fridays to Saturdays and from Sundays to Mondays in the couchette coach between Hamburg and Frankfurt.

During the week I worked and in the evening just sat in t had to get out and usually went to a small bar not far from my road.

One day I met I. there and was fascinated. Seemingly slightly nervous, hands always in her hair, she sat on the stool beside me wearing a blue overall as it was fashionable at that time. As I soon learnt, she came to the bar (a distance of 200 metres) on her NSU-bicycle, which she had bought from Berlin’s emergency supplies, a heavy thing without any kind of gear switches or a comfortable suspension. Somehow we liked each other and I also learnt that she lived in a house only 50 metres from my flat. I often saw the bicycle standing there and it reminded me of her. But where she lived exactly I never got to know in the bar.Then I did not see I. for a couple of days though I really wanted to. But she did not come to the bar and I thought what I could do.

The I remembered the bike, which was so unique, and I produced a note saying that I wanted to see her again and jammed it into her bicycles bell. Of course I was excited but also satisfied to have managed making contact and went home full of anticipation.

Ther the telephone started ringing very soon, it was my father telling me that my mother had died. I told him that I would come at once, but before entering the cab I removed the note from the bicycle bell, I could not manage I. in this situation.

Today, if somebody asks me who I. is, I just say that she is my ex-wife.