Let’s see … hat, muffler, thick navy-style sweater … Borges paperback, new magazine of WIssenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft (damn, I should do my year’s order), diskette (yeah, the “Disketten-Laufwerk” is alive, at least at my working place, good that I kept some). A good cup of coffe prepared by the Hungarian Queen of coffeemachines, the quint-essence of any bean sqeezed in my cup – it would start the space-shuttle, maybe it does.
It’s flucking cold outside, I am sure tomorrow a silver-white mist (ein Hauch – what a wonderful word!) will be seen over all things outside. The Hyundai will get it’s winter tires, just in time. Driving – where’s my Saint? Yes, in the pocket of the shirt. And the ring, die Woschtfingerla werrn äwwer noch digger? “Gold gab ich für Eisen” – not THIS one Wilhelm!
It should be a calm night, enough time to read and produce a “Lesefrucht” – florilegium, Blütenlese, I do not know the English expression. It is a collection of remarkable snippets of text, thoughts. And Borges is always good for something. I seemingly did not yet write about him. Tomorrow.
Postscriptum 19th of November
Too late for Jorge Luis Borges. Tomorrow. Another timeless night.