July 2002
Dear All,
"From where I sit"...outside, in a crowded cafe street in the centre of Leipzig late on a warm Summer afternoon...appetizing smell wafting by, an Oasis CD sometimes breaking through the murmuring crowds, the waitress brings me the usual thin, tepid coffee - dumping it on my copy of The Guardian.
A beautiful girl with a tattooed back sits opposite with a not-now uncommonly Beckham-friseured boy, an old man makes his way between the tables trying to sell a street magazine, tourists take photos, couples with their full shopping bags stop for pasta and wine or beer.
Wait here long enough and someone you know will pass by or stop, and later every table and chair will be occupied until 1 or 2a.m. - business deals will be sewn up and students will discuss their theses, lovers will fawn or fall out while others will eye each other and start something new. The 3 already tequilered girls on my left pour over photos from their ballet school and the 2 men on my right reminisce about why "it was better" in the days of the GDR.
Vicki, a young model, stops to proudly show me her newly braided hair, as the last of the sunlight glances suddenly through the thunderstorm-threatening clouds filling the narrow passage with a warm glow, while somewhere else world leaders plot the way to our annihilation - and Amy, my week old daughter, is sleeping.
Dean