I’m listening to Richie Havens’ High Flying Bird on Spotify (check out the really amazing camera work and moving shadow on the recording). One of the heroes of Woodstock on the media that is the anti-thesis to what Woodstock stood for! I’m sitting in a big attic, on my own. Pádraig is asleep downstairs after a busy day. We will have a few days on our own until Thursday.
Over the past few weeks I’ve felt like imploding and exploding. Sometimes simultaneously. Imploding out of helplessness, exploding out of impatience with a world that really doesn’t get it at times.
None of it makes sense: neither should I feel helpless, nor frustrated about what is, as I would say in German: “Sonnenklar”, as clear as mud.
There is hope though!
Early this morning, I received first an email from the mayor of Bad Herrenalp and then from the CEO of the Gartenschau. Both apologised for the trouble we had yesterday and hoped we still had had a great day at the show. They also asked for my account number and said they’d transfer the 13 euro they had charged for the person accompanying Pádraig to my account.
If the Germans can change… ?!
PS: Just came across what must be the coolest (though not the best:) version of my favourite song, All Along the Watchtower, by the Allman Brothers. Pure Soul, as one comment says.