Three rivers meet in Passau. A school for girls, a beer fountain, and a bare Christmas tree were all I saw in the center.
There are marks on the wall where the water rose. High and destructive, the clouds had released their fury. There’s a line on the road where the sand had reached. Happy and bright, quartz pebbles now lead the way.
It was very, very quiet. I didn’t mind. Sometimes the muffled rub of grain under your boot is all the meditation you need.