pale

 Wait for a few minutes for the man with the sticks. It is actually quite good to wait, allow the breath to return after the climb up the keyboard of the oxen. Without a pause today, and walk all the way around the castle to the view of Landshut. It is a clear day, and the low angle of the sun picks out the shapes of the roofs and the walls of the houses of the town below.

There is a walker and then two runners. They all say good morning, but somehow they all seem to be in a desperate hurry.

Then the man with the sticks arrives, his face pale and drawn. He does not look well today. He says that he could not sleep because of all the things that worry him. His daughter-in-law, who cares for him, will be off to the mountains for the weekend, and he is frightened at the thought of being alone. He worries about his property, he still owns his family home, this must be sold for it is empty. For sentimental reasons he does not want to let it go, an understandable sentiment.

Walk the short stretch to the car park, he has become as talkative as ever, and the colour has returned to his face.

The walk today is easy, even the climb up to the Carrosahöhe, normally a killer, is manageable today. Maybe it is because the weather is cooler. Maybe the old body is actually getting a bit fitter now.

Maybe.

The Italian waitress is as friendly and as beautiful as ever. And the coffee is as good.