How Far, In Any Case, Must One

No Matter Whether One Is Flying Over Newfoundland Or The Sea Of Lights That Stretches From Boston To Philadelphia After Nightfall, Over The Arabian Deserts Which Gleam Like Mother-of-pearl, Over The Ruhr Or The City Of Frankfurt, It Is As Though There Were No People, Only The Things They Have Made And In Which They Are Hiding.

Tiny Details Imperceptible To Us Decide Everything!

We All Have Appointments With The Past.

Time, That Most Abstract Of Humanity's Homes.

It Makes One’s Head Heavy And Giddy, As If One Were Not Looking Back Down The Receding Perspectives Of Time But Rather Down On The Earth From A Great Height, From One Of Those Towers Whose Tops Are Lost To View In The Clouds