Promenade

„Have you been abandoned by all the spirits that were friendly to you just a moment ago? Do you lift your leg to a representative of the foundation of our existence?“

The dog, whose delicate, medium-sized body remains in frozen tension, gives no thought to the rude and, as it were, embracing invitation to interrupt his activity on the leafless sea buckthorn bush and lower his raised leg. With the eyes of a dog that doesn’t let his certainty of their expressiveness show, he pauses and looks at Sandy with a blink; his gaze and his priorities wander calmly over the wintry beach promenade of Hollow Born, where a rough wind ploughs through his fur. He enjoys this moment of relief in the times when the air is not flooded with stimuli of various origins. At this time of year, smells that could reach the dog’s wet snout, carried by the breeze, are the rarest of events, absorbed with enthusiasm.

After his relief, he pauses for a moment in his posture and sees himself confirmed by the harmony of the lack of olfactory, acoustic, visual and tactile stimuli, the latter measured in caresses, that this time has its own qualities. The pleasure is in his eyes and his moist nose sniffs out the tiniest nuances in the social wasteland, which is a fairground in high season; turbulent in all senses: smells in a thousand different ways; food, suntan oil, deodorant and sweat to the point of obnoxiousness. The liquid legacies of the foreign dogs are deliberate provocations, a declaration of takeover seemingly made in secret, in the olfactory spectrum noisily towards the previous shareholders of the local cosmos, the inhabitants - him. The foreign dogs are guests. Unworthy of this status, they are eager to lend their paw prints, any evidence of their existence, a lasting character. In a summery emulsion of strolling, talking, trampling and exaltedly presented first-class whimsy, the structure remains stable as long as the emulsifiers water and weather play along pleasingly.

‚I’m not being fair; it’s more complicated than that,‘ he muses, questioning his own bias. ‚They are open-minded and intend slightly more than to enjoy what is for them a precious moment. What for me is a consequence of suspected, organized serial harassment, an intrusion into my everyday life, is for them, as socially postulated, a rare opportunity to take advantage of what is supposed to be the best time of the year. It’s clear that the tensions are letting off steam at hairline cracks and even spilling over onto the dog. Each of the actors is supposedly in harmony with themselves and with a message of presence - even if it is as an obstacle on the sidewalk - to the general public; an individualist in search of affirmation, even if it is only about having made the right decision. At the same time, they are on the prowl, also mostly relative to age, with various final intentions, in order to recognize intersections empirically, in field tests, also following genetic reason, and to stimulate communication to form a common frequency on a new, higher level. Music and entertainment in some corners. Summer is high season. Innate trigger mechanisms in random mode among themselves: the skipping behavior of one is the key stimulus for others. The time when they instrumentalize him again. He is passed around within the family, used and stroked to get into conversation with strangers. On the flip side of the coin is that from May onwards, he is only welcome on the dog beach and stays at home outside of his ‚assignments‘.

The icy breath of the sea passes over his windward eye, which begins to water. He lowers his leg carefully, stretches and prances from left to right on the promenade at a trot, waving his tail tensely back and forth with his head held high, like a commander celebrating an imminent triumph in the face of his victorious troops on the battlefield in front of his hill, and letting go of his previously unmistakable dignity.

„Little mouse, if you don’t behave, we’ll go to the dog beach in winter too and then I’ll deliver your sweet snout to my mother.“

Sandy looks at the undergrowth, which is richer in contrast due to the fresh wetness and otherwise pale outside the vegetation phase, without focusing on it: „Girls, you’re causing us trouble,“ she mumbles introspectively. The beach promenade is sparsely populated and no one takes any notice of her conversation with her beloved animal and a representative of the oil willow family, both of whom have other things on their minds than raising five children.

The dog lowers his head, stretches it forward and, rubbing against his mistress’s trousers, threads himself into a leaning orbit with side changes. He describes his pleasurable ‚figure-eight orbits‘ incessantly around her slender, long legs, orienting himself exclusively to life and not following the square pattern of the large-format sidewalk slabs, with which no attempt was made to create a unique selling point like the wave-like paving of the Calçada Portuguesa, the slightly longerCalçadão de Copacabana in Rio de Janeiro. Its striped pattern of bright and cheerful shades is broad and dynamically varied. Key areas such as the forecourt of the pier and Baltic Square feature large static patterns to indicate the local amenity qualities.

Dog hair is hard to spot on her jeans. It’s fresh and Sandy shoves her hands into the spacious pockets of her quilted jacket. She pulls her narrow shoulders closer to the middle of her body to provide less surface area to attack. It is not heat loss that is her declared enemy, but the icy wind. The result is the same, even if the personification represents a reversal of thermodynamic principles. Her shoulder-length, blond-haired head is protected by a beige, double-stitched crocheted cap that hangs over minimally and is not bulky, so as not to offer the seagulls nesting material or contents for promenading and showing off in the colony too lightly.

Sandy has had a stellar career. To have pushed five children into adulthood without any screaming evidence of serious mistakes is quite an achievement. She has also been immensely fortunate not to have been hit by misfortune up to this point. The fact that her first husband quickly trolled off the field can undoubtedly be seen as a stroke of luck. Her anti-authoritarian upbringing is just as noticeable in her dog as it is in her children. At least with her offspring, it worked on the whole. None of them seem to have turned out to be so socially disturbed that Sandy tossed and turned in bed.

Things are hopeless with this playful little mouse of a dog. He is capable of putting people in a state of gentle delight, but he does whatever comes into his head, even if it is unintentionally silly.

„It’s all gone wrong,“ she mumbles. „When he’s in a good mood, he lets off steam.“ She smiles. ‚Like Gerd!‘, she is struck by an unexcited thought about the consequences of her own capitulation of marital parenting attempts, looking at the trotting, seemingly haphazard four-legged friend. She tilts her head and her eyes follow the dog as she tries to discern mental or even character differences between her husband, to whom she has been married for twenty-five years, and the animal. ‚Sure, Gerd isn’t as curious as he used to be, he doesn’t keep crossing the road and he doesn’t stand up against a bush or tree - at least not in built-up areas. Sandy finishes her smile by pressing her lips together, even though her mouth wasn’t open. ‚It’s all good.

The dog has extended the radius of action. To the chagrin of some passers-by, it is also the physical friendliness that jumps out at you.

„You’ll be back on the leash in a minute.“

A shiver, enough to raise the hairs on the back of a mammal’s neck, runs down Sandy’s spine. She knows the feeling; it’s neither pure anticipation of an impending event, nor a foreboding that makes your blood run cold. Unobtrusively familiar and at the same time a warning, like precautions to take when a shallow tide is coming. It won’t be apocalyptic in scale, it won’t even be negative in origin. It’s like the feeling that it’s better to take the washing off the line before the wind picks up or rain clouds gather. Taking the human element into account, Sandy is very close to being caught with a piece of cake in a café when she would have proclaimed the day before that she would immediately take care of her line by giving it up. The forcefulness of role models is their power to prompt reflection and debate among friends, enemies and those without a position.

Hanna, her mother, the trigger of the physical emotion, is within emotional range. Sandy questions her feelings without being aware of any guilt. No promise or recent agreement that she would not have kept is in the air. Displeasing words, insidious thoughts to which her own conscience would hold up a mirror, are not present to her. The tingling is not like the comforting warmth of an approaching boyfriend or the excitement she feels for her husband, regardless of how many years they have been together. To gloss over it in relation to Gerd would be to miss the point, the heightened sensitivity that, much to her chagrin, can swing in either direction at any time and without restraint.

The dog goes crazy with joy when he recognizes Hanna. He loves her. With her, he receives sincere encouragement that he doesn’t have to work for and for which he doesn’t perform any tricks. She sees him as he is - not in terms of his submissiveness or even loyalty. He is free from domesticated premonitions that he will be rewarded because third parties deem his actions or omissions to be acceptable, even ‚good‘. As trivial as she makes it sound, and as questionable as the truthfulness of her statement might be, her intention seems justifiably credible and in keeping with a beautiful spirit.

„Yes, helloooo. There you are, handsome. I’ve missed you so much. You sweet, sweet little mouse! Everything you do, you do so well. You’re the best, the very best in the whole world. - And so pretty. If I didn’t have you.“

„Mum, you urgently need a dog to accompany you again. Go and get one. We’ll go to the animal shelter or look for a companion on the Internet.“

Hanna walks up to Sandy and greets her in the French way, not the Soviet way. „Hello darling. I’ve had eighteen wonderful and completely different dogs in my life and I can’t get used to them dying. The last one was all of them.“ She turns her head, pulls a handkerchief out of her jacket pocket and wipes her nose with the most elegant restraint.

Sandy looks questioningly at her mother. ‚Should she become mellow in her old age, a sentimentality that she lives out; against all slogans, kitsch and emotional evasions; should she really renounce her dreaded emotional fireworks in favor of a billowing melancholy?

„What’s wrong with you? I’ve been driving open-top and my nose is running. If you can’t bear to die, you shouldn’t get a pet - especially not a rabbit. I love them. Better try a large parrot. They live to be eighty. - I’m undecided about the dog. If I do, it’ll be a giant. ‚Otto‘. If things go wrong for me in time, you’ll have to take him on. They get quite old for their size at fourteen. I have a dinner date with him in preparation. We’re having roast goose. He’ll love it.“

„Mum, I don’t need to tell you that you confuse me. I’ll do it anyway so that you understand that you like to drive off the beaten track. Roast goose? Otto? Where does the name come from? Nazi opponent or women’s rights?“

„Louise Otto-Peters, ‚The right of women to acquire‘. I would take a male again, hence ‚Otto‘.“

„Right to work? Isn’t that a bit thin?“

„Eighteen hundred and sixty-six doesn’t; especially when it comes to having an income as a woman herself. - Sandy?“

„Yes?“ comes out of her hesitantly, sensing that there is some general or alternatively specific hint in the air about a component in her or her husband’s lifestyle that is considered unfavorable. If it were about Sandy’s children, Hanna’s grandchildren, Sandy wouldn’t know about it because her mother would sort it out secretly and directly if one of them messed up, got into trouble, or Hanna wouldn’t wait for a chance opportunity to talk to her about it, but would immediately declare a family emergency at any time.

„Didn’t you want to stop smoking?“

„Mummy! I’m in the middle of it. Ad hoc doesn’t work. The mood goes down and I go off the rails. Instead, I’m working on it and gradually reducing. Did you greet me lovingly or sniff me like a drug dog?“

„You are my child. I can’t help it.“

„So, where are you going? Harbor?“

„Yes.“ Hanna has one of the more difficult daily decisions ahead of her, which is sometimes taken away from her by helpfully overzealous waiters and waitresses. Cappuccino, beer, white wine or spritz. She often parks Jean away from her destination to walk by the water for a while in her thoughts. It is the emptiness rather than the vastness that visibly frees her from people and things in her life during her moments looking out over the sea into the distance, so that she can relate to herself without distraction. A holistic ‚letting go‘, even if it is just a few minutes. Hanna doesn’t just reach out with her arm. „My dear child. I enjoy the sea in winter in its peculiarity, which it loses in summer. Unbridled, with spray-spraying wave crests that crash powerfully onto the beach and take huge amounts of sand with them so that they can’t keep up with the excavators and dump trucks. I enjoy it as much as possible without tourists.“

„Mum, you know you’re at the Baltic Sea and no longer with Trixi on the educational trip through Portugal with a stopover at the mega waves in Nazaré on the Atlantic? What do you think Rerik is? Diamond Head?“

„Child, say Honolulu three times in quick succession!“

Sandy stares at her mother with a lightning-bolt face. The playfulness is as familiar to her as it is suspicious.

„It almost worked. Never mind. If the wind picks up, you don’t have to look for me at home, I’ll be here - or at the ghostly forest - enjoying whatever waves come in. Harbor today. I feel like a cappuccino. I had a hot sea buckthorn - from our press - yesterday as an exception. It was noticeably colder outside.“

Hanna’s understanding of the clan and her commitment to the clan, of which she is the undisputed head, does not extend to the ritualistic depths of social integrity that she would insist exclusively on her own products. She prefers an Italian bitter or spritz. Drinking a glass of diluted sea buckthorn nectar, unsweetened, is one of her daily habits at home, which she maintains until she goes on drill. It remains to be seen whether this has had any medicinal effect over the decades - she insists on its continuity, which confirms her reliability and trustworthiness. It is more the act than the fact of taking the drink.

„There’s something free at the harbor at this time of day. Not in the beach chairs, with your back to the water, because sunlight on your face is more exciting than the sea.“

„They are all aligned to the sun.“

„Exactly. Why? For light on their wrinkled skin, they can sit in a camping chair in front of the underground garage entrance at home in Dusseldorf or in the garden in Radebeul. I don’t understand it, the good seats with a sea view are free. Not my fault. Meanwhile, these things are far away from the beach - be careful with the choice of words: ‚beach chairs‘. They’ve become streetwear and don’t belong in front gardens or street cafés any more than palm trees for the summer look belong in north German pedestrian zones.“

„Street what?“

„Street clothes, meant ironically; I got them from your sister. Her New York time sticks to her like - wait a minute - ‚fashion‘.“ Hanna pronounces the English fashion word as if she’s testing her loud A-umlaut skills with an unprotected yawn offensive. „Child, first of all, I wanted to see you. It was clear that you were wandering around by the water. The car isn’t in the parking lot at the harbour. You were all gone at home; you, the car and the dog. Are you parking at the supermarket or at our place?“

„At the market. I’m not going to Beach Road today. ‚House of Happy Waves‘. I can’t get used to the name of your crate any more than you can get used to the name of this sunshine.“ Sandy patted the dog.

„That’s what your great-grandmother called the house. You can’t blame me for everything. Walk through the streets and read the house names out loud. You’re in a bygone era. They have something to do with sun, sea, beach, women’s names or something spa-era imperial. - So at the supermarket.“

„We’re on the promenade for a sniff. I want to do some shopping for the weekend. Can I leave him with you for a moment so he doesn’t have to wait outside the door?“

Hanna looks at the slim, spotted creature with scrutinizing eyes. „Well, you dirty sling. Do you think you and I will get along for the next few hours?“

„Woof.“

„So, would you prefer a cappuccino or water?“

„Woof. Woof. Woof.“ The four-legged friend wriggles standing up and then lying on its back, like a salamander’s body being deformed by the pair of legs.

„We’ve sorted that out.“ Hanna leaves her gaze on the calming animal for a while, then looks further down at her post-war orthopaedic jumper boots, invented by a doctor from Starnberg with soft soles and hard caps and crease-forming quarters, which she wears in a fashionable, shiny shade of morello cherry red from the ‚Vintage Collection‘, once again made in England. She loves her boots. It takes Hanna an eternity, what feels like a thousand miles, to break them in; a secure stance is worth its weight in gold in her late sixties.

„What’s wrong with your husband? He’s looking puzzled - and hold on tight - deep in thought. I don’t know the latter from him. He can wear it; the furrowed brow is unusual.“

„Mum, tell me how it is. You’re worried, you have no idea what’s going on and you’re teasing instead of asking because you don’t know if it’s your business or if you’re hitting a sore spot. Is there gossip in the village again? Before you brood on the powder keg for days until it blows up after ranting on the sideshows: We’ve received an offer to buy our sea buckthorn fields near Kagsdorf. Someone is planning to make a lasting impression and build an amusement park with a roller coaster.“

„With what?“

„A roller coaster. Like so often. Someone starts and now there’s a Ferris wheel in every cow village in the world with tourists and someone wants to sell something with rides. None of our business. The offer is good, but the purchase is subject to planning permission. They demand a six-year lease and pay the normal rent for grassland until then. Our sea buckthorn will die, for whatever reason. Gerd has no intention of being the last to take the plunge - and then there’s hardly any water left in the basin. The production facilities are paid off. That’s reassuring; it’s no longer of any use. When there are healthy plants again, we can carry on without any problems and then need the space. What are we working on until then and how long will it take? On the other hand, selling land is neither a business idea nor a permanent solution. We are at sea and there is no land in sight.“

Hanna has dubbed her hitherto incontrovertible view of real estate sales and, for her, significantly more personal, ‚land sales‘. She takes a deep breath, unintentionally following her nature and her convictions, to make her position clear in factual and legal matters, even though it is humanly repugnant to her. She can understand it, no matter how she feels about it.

At that moment, the familiar sound of the steam-powered narrow-gauge spa train, which is about to arrive at Hollow Born East station from Bad Doberan and Heiligendamm, sounds twice.

Sandy looks in the direction of the tunnel without seeing the ‚Molli‘ train. She follows the assumed position of the moving train with her eyes on the track behind the houses, in a long curve up to Doberaner Street.

Hanna has regained control of herself and, from her point of view, lets the reins slip excessively. „Child, I’m sorry about that. If there’s anything I can do ...; you know I’m here.“

„Thank you mom. It has to be. We had prepared ourselves for things to gradually settle down. Fiddlesticks. Constant changes; professionally. - In his private life, he acts as if everything is going on as before, even though the children are almost out of the house. Well, at the moment he’s playing cards with his friends so he can switch off.“

„I understand,“ says Hanna with a rare, almost silent reserve, and she proves her sense of the moment by avoiding anything unnecessary or out of place. She is there - accessible and resilient. It seems to be more serious. Since Gerda Finow had asked her about it, the conversation in the village is clear. It would be easier for Hanna to understand a marital disagreement than to turn tail before the buckthorn dies.

„A roller coaster. Pff. And the Molli will not be extended to Rerik or Warnowmouth. That would benefit everyone.“ After saying this, she turns around with an exaggerated, searching look. Just like in the old days, the years that have passed too quickly from today’s perspective, with her daughter’s flock of children around her almost every step of the way; annoying and beloved. „Where are my grandchildren?“

‚Marriage remains a private matter until it smells dicey. - And even then. Sea buckthorn is a whole different kettle of fish.

Contemporary generations like to grit their teeth on the subject of the stone fruit and it is unlikely that phrase-based game models will have any chance of getting to the root of the problem. Hanna would not be able to make progress in her participation with consolation, trivialization or a solution conjured out of a hat that does not exist.

„And at home? Judging by the garage, all your offspring have left; at least the ones who haven’t moved out yet - and the ones who are back from time to time because they’ve spontaneously separated from their great love - and Trixi. What was the last time I called her?“

„It flows apart. Those were lucid times when they didn’t have driver’s licenses and lived at home. ... And vice versa with their aunt since her teenage years, because she’s always been on the road more.“

„It was perfect,“ confirms Hanna, certain that she would be more likely to spark a disturbing fire than a beacon by celebrating the degrees of freedom she had gained, and blows the same horn. „They didn’t get far on their bikes and they had their regular routes and regular spots - like up there on the beach, in the middle of the hustle and bustle among the tourists.“ She points to section three of the beach, which is deserted in winter. „They got that from their rampant aunt.“

„So, where are you going?“ Sandy doesn’t comment on her mother’s slowed-down escapades to lighten her mood any more than ‚yes‘ politeness dictates, but grabs Hanna’s right arm encouragingly and strokes it through the waxed jacket. With her other hand, she pats her dog, who has sat down in front of her and is looking up at her.

„The sun is shining and the sunny spots in the beach chairs have vacated the good places with a view of the Baltic Sea. I have a clear path and a good view.“

„Leave the people alone. There are enough who enjoy it. The sea is in the north-east, there’s no sunshine from Denmark or Finland at midday or in the afternoon.“

Hanna turns away from her daughter, turns her front into the wind, makes a half lunge forward and lets Sandy stall on Lee. „Isn’t the fresh breeze refreshing?“

„It’s a bit chilly.“

„Turn around, into the sun!“

„Mother, stop nagging. You enjoy it just as much when it gets warmer; so you can dig and snip in the garden because supposedly the overall picture changes ‚dramatically‘ every day where others can’t tell the difference,“ Sandy leans down to her Dalmatian mongrel: „Muffin, you’re going with Grandma. I’m sure you’ll get something nice. I’ll pick you up in a minute.“

„Child, leave it. I’ll take him home. He loves to ride in the open.“ She purses her lips and nods to the dog: „ We’re alone, you can sit in the passenger seat. Your harness and cushion are on the loading area. Would you like to sit in the front with Jean?“

„Woof. The issue is closed.“

„See you then!“

„Drive carefully! Do you have enough power?“

„No, for the seven kilometers I’ll stay on the grid and unroll a cable drum on the way.“ Hanna makes a snide hand gesture, which she executes with an elegant crescendo, expressing a ‚Voilà!“ in the most modest self-image. „Child, please. My vehicles charge at night.“

Hanna has her well-known times of going to Hollow Born to visit one of the pubs there in a tiny act of family liberation. She also takes a cursory look at the rental property they have in town and talks to the tenants. The courtyard of the house has the charm of the station forecourt of a Parisian satellite suburb. It is paved over for parking spaces, deliveries and garbage. The Schlingdorffs had wanted it, pressed it into the contract and implemented it themselves. They have known it for a long time, but it remains a thorn in their side waiting to be pulled out. House ‚Happiness of the Waves‘ is located in Beach Road, close to the water, with the clothing store on the first floor and second floor, two vacation apartments at the back and one in the attic with small terraces.

Hanna sits with the dog at her feet in the café by the harbor and looks out at the sea behind the small number of boats bobbing at their moorings in the sheltered harbor basin. Not more than six weeks and the start of the season is evident from its call and massive occupation on a long weekend. The majority of the yachts are in the water almost three months before the bathers. Hanna sits on the land side of the promenade. On the water side, there is one beach chair per table below the stepped ‚tween decks‘, which reduce the perceived drop to harbor level. The baskets are all occupied by unabashed sun-seekers.

‚There’s something reverent about this time of year,‘ she muses, without giving a thought to her brother, the friend of direct speech, for comparison. ‚In summer, they sizzle their skins red, then the skin is dry and light gray and flutters past the pizzeria in translucent shreds like shavings of Parmesan; a pleasure that is often exaggerated. In the early sunny days, when the weather is tolerable, they remain militantly longing and obedient, as if the family doctor had prescribed them sunshine to increase their chances of making it through this year alive. Unlike the last bastion against decay, Hanna seeks out moments, events, things and people along the way for the direct enrichment of life, which she describes as pleasure. She now uses the ashtray that was placed in front of her before she sat down, and a friendly waitress, whom she has known for years and with whom she gets on extremely well because they have a similar wavelength, brings her a cappuccino without her having ordered it.

„Hello Hanna.“

„Hello Irmi. Thank you.“

Irmingard smiles and is gone again. Although it’s not packed, she and her colleagues move at the same speed and rhythm of the peak season, which they look forward to with mixed feelings.

Hanna loves the view of the Baltic Sea when it is free of any challenging disturbances. The emptiness of the picture fills her more than a load of individual fates. As she gets older, she is more grateful not to be forced to evaluate people by their mere presence. She doesn’t stay long. The outside temperature dictates her drinking speed in the wind chill. There are warm blankets on the chairs, which she uses from time to time when the summer evenings freshen up. In March, on the other hand, it is more likely to be consistently cold and Hanna is suitably wrapped up in an unprofessionally implemented onion skin technique. She doesn’t like synthetic fibers on her skin and the rain cape is tucked up with a ribbon on Jean’s loading area.

‚Plant some snail prophylaxis now and read later. I urgently need to go to the bookshop next week. I only have one unread book left. I’m running out. Hopefully I’ll find something on the bestseller list. The garden is otherwise in good shape. Bertha should hurry up with the penguin petting. Then she’ll get something out of it.

Her gaze focuses leisurely and she looks at the sea. „Well, beautiful.“ She smiles at the ocean rescue tug BALTIC, which is on its standby position out at sea. A rainbow seems to meet it, stretching out from there over the pier and stretching as far as Hollow Born West.

„Yes, you’re a beauty too,“ she says to the dog, who had jumped up and was looking at her because he - like her son-in-law Gerd - is willing to feel addressed when complimented or praised. „Since you’re standing, shall we go?“

„Woof. Woof. Woof.“

„It’s okay, don’t get into it.“ She turns her head towards the entrance to intercept a service employee.

„Would you like anything else, Hanna?“ asks Irmingard, who was about to rush past her coming from the opposite direction.

„Can I pay, please?“

„Bar, as usual?“

„Si,“ she confirms in broken Italian. „So, how’s the mood? No reason to complain yet?“

„The best time of the year,“ says Irmingard. „Turnover is poor. We also notice that in the tips. It’ll start again soon. Sales are rising and the mood is plummeting. You know how it is. First the early birds with this year’s first ascent of their balconies in the second homes - the turn of the year doesn’t count, they’re quieter than usual. But when it’s warmer, they want everyone to know that they’re back. Then there are the tourists with children. Everything is fine there. The children are in and by the sea and they pay attention to the price. Then come the bad-tempered old people on the hunt for off-season bargains, followed by my ‚favorite‘ guests, the dozens of ‚bring me some ...‘ fun birds. Also badly dressed but more expensive and impatient and loud as hell.“ As she said this, she contorted her facial expressions to match the expectations of the guests she was describing.

„Oh,“ is Hanna’s comment on an unsurprising description that is similar every year.

Irmingard presses the electronic device she is carrying and Hanna pays.

„Thank you.“

„Thank you.“

„Have a nice day.“

„You too. See you tomorrow.“

The end of the dialog between the two women is always the same. In the final farewell, it doesn’t matter who says what, unless there is an appointment such as a doctor’s diagnosis or funeral. The ‚See you tomorrow‘ is to be understood as a ‚welcome‘, not as a call to action.

Hanna takes the dog for a long walk along the beach promenade, past the pier to her car. Like her gardening, her urge to clean and her busy mind, the short walks keep her fit and the view of the Baltic Sea, which is a rich dark blue with white wave crests, is one of the moving reasons for her sedentariness.

She reaches for the cushion on the loading area, which measures less than a square meter, and places it on the passenger seat. At an encouraging nod of the head, the dog jumps onto the seat. The harness behind him is unbuckled and she buckles up the expectant four-legged friend, who at least has the importance of an imminent space flight on his face, checks the tightness of the belts, gets in as well, nods to the upright animal, backs up, slams in and speeds off at around thirty-five kilometers per hour.

 

 

 

 

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