An almost Robert-Walser-like walk, merely aimless, unlike in the strangely-spun and in its way infinitely sad narrative “The Walk”. The light in winter is more beautiful than in summer, I think on my way out of the city – at least for photography beautiful – in the Bamberger grove and, later back from the open field and shady trees, the meadows and waters, the lock and on Opposite the river Regnitz on the shore is the Concordia artists’ club, then back to the old town, to the butcher’s shop, where there was a Leberkäs roll, but at least it is more pleasant in summer. Because it is warm and light flows in streets and paths in the high days of June. Summer begins, the longest day of the year, I sit outside, in the evening in the gallery on Stephansberg or in the Café Müller with a white wine, just before the lectures. The summer light is bright during the daytime. The evening, however, offers better light for taking pictures. Only: there were the lectures in the bright Dominican church to hear, so the camera remained in the bag.
In the Bamberger Hain I met the talking dog Berganza and after a few glasses of the rather horrible tasting Bamberger Rauchbier it seems as if it really were like this: all dogs talk to one or strangely looked up to the wavering guest. The city of the seven hills. On the ascent to the Michelsberg or to the beautiful beer garden on the Stephansberg one can get into the panting and the alcohol got into the blood. Bamberger Rauchbier tastes like a malicious man or a malicious god dipped a smoked bacon in beer for ten days. Sebastian insisted on tasting this beer, but also advised caution; This was not for everyone and taste. And so it was. We did it in the alto ringlet. I am strolling in white summer jeans. At least some dogs meet in the grove if you walk on the banks of the river Regnitz during the day and of course on a saint’s heart. But all those lovely dogs who are on a leash or sometimes without running: they are all well-behaved. Certainly readers of the Hoffmann text and connoisseur of his work claim that ETA Hoffmann’s “Message of the latest fates of the dog Berganza” was one of his weakest prose pieces.
“You’re a cultural blogger, you have to do something fuller, not just digress and digress!” “No, no, I just have to take a walk, a camera between my paws. I do not discover the stories, but go past them, give them at most a picture, put them in a photograph “. Such inattentive going messed me up at the end of a nice story for the newspaper. But this story can be made up for.
In the Bamberger Hain, the sun shines brightly, unlike my winter walk there , and in front of the monument of Ludwig II, a young beauty in a bikini lolls. I look over calmly.