“I will undertake the last celestial marathon towards midnight, a north wind now, the triumvirate Jupiter half moon Saturn above the giant whale of the Pfannenstiel hills, taking one last breath on the surface of the cottonwool ocean before sinking down into its slow-motion waves. After the striking constellation has set, I dive under and dream away, enveloped in down.
“Four hours later ice as hard as glass has to be scraped off the windscreen, slowly steadily relentlessly the grey fluff has swelled overnight, the vast basin of the Central Lowlands is billowing with masses of continental arctic air, shipped by a northeaster. A stiff breeze is blow-ing on the tower, the fog is still rising under a thin layer of mist. The antidawn conditions muted / pastelly indigo ultramarine-dark bluish purple reddish purple dusky pink pale orange. The fog ceiling, initially illuminated by artificial light, pales, absorbs the delicate colouring of the sky. Opposite gentle Aurora, Scorpion’s stinger is still touching the Mürtschenstock peak, its pincers rearing into the southern skies, while radiant Venus wanders towards Sagittarius in the luminous light of morning hurtling towards us in silence.
“My film ran out twenty minutes before the sun rose, the top of the cold air ocean has reached the foot of the tower to which I am almost frozen fast. I whirl down the stairs, flying home blindly through icy grey cottonwool to thaw myself out in a warm bath.”