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More from Seskra_The_Spider
My train will not take me to Hogwarts.
Nor even to Fairyland.
It's a conduit for a much longer journey, one much more subtle in its transformations.
From the squalid, flat plains of my home it will take me ever southward: through Germany. Ah Germany. A fine place to visit, to be sure, but moreover I've yet to find a country more delightful to be merely passing through.
It's a perfect patchwork: the ultimate study in complimenting contrast. The landscape is an ocean of indomitable nature, dotted with villages like brickwork archipelagos and cities like concrete continents. Medieval castles and Gothic churches dine at the same table as parabolic skyscrapers and state-of-the-art train stations. Their meal is a fire-roasted hunk of refined Saxon tradition, stewed in modern globalism and sprinkled with the leftover breadcrumbs of communism.
Oak trees ten times my senior compete with Edenoid hills for dominance of the horizon, and all I can think of is how pitifully my own country fares by comparison. I have to look up now -my neck craned skyward- to see the hills we sneak our way between. The world rises and falls around me, as though I were exploring the paw print of some titanic Ursa Major; interspersed with a million little rivers.
And to think:
We haven't even reached the Alps yet.
The first of many, many pieces I wrote while in Austria, and the first of about 4 to be directly about the trip itself: more coming tomorrow.
And yes: Germany really is that beautiful. Few places better encapsulate the notion that journeys are more important than destinations, particularly as you get further south. I don't think I could ever get tired of trips like these.
This piece and your soul belong to me
Nor even to Fairyland.
It's a conduit for a much longer journey, one much more subtle in its transformations.
From the squalid, flat plains of my home it will take me ever southward: through Germany. Ah Germany. A fine place to visit, to be sure, but moreover I've yet to find a country more delightful to be merely passing through.
It's a perfect patchwork: the ultimate study in complimenting contrast. The landscape is an ocean of indomitable nature, dotted with villages like brickwork archipelagos and cities like concrete continents. Medieval castles and Gothic churches dine at the same table as parabolic skyscrapers and state-of-the-art train stations. Their meal is a fire-roasted hunk of refined Saxon tradition, stewed in modern globalism and sprinkled with the leftover breadcrumbs of communism.
Oak trees ten times my senior compete with Edenoid hills for dominance of the horizon, and all I can think of is how pitifully my own country fares by comparison. I have to look up now -my neck craned skyward- to see the hills we sneak our way between. The world rises and falls around me, as though I were exploring the paw print of some titanic Ursa Major; interspersed with a million little rivers.
And to think:
We haven't even reached the Alps yet.
The first of many, many pieces I wrote while in Austria, and the first of about 4 to be directly about the trip itself: more coming tomorrow.
And yes: Germany really is that beautiful. Few places better encapsulate the notion that journeys are more important than destinations, particularly as you get further south. I don't think I could ever get tired of trips like these.
This piece and your soul belong to me
Category Poetry / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 120 x 87px
File Size 9.6 kB
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