Masks

 Fog,even grey and damp, is blocking the view of the tree line over the roofs of Landshut. It is a wonderful soft light, even the shadows underneath things are soft. Structures surfaces show, their colours glow

It is later today, last evening was spent taking talking and taking pictures of jazz musicians, local talent that take what they do and themselves seriously. Old men in the pub being nice to the young girls, in the hope that they are liked and admired. And they all in their finery, out to enjoy the company and to see the people.

A Scottish engineer, a man who built centrifuges talks slowly over his accent, he is used to not being understood here in Germany. There is no problem understanding him here, and he seems to have some pleasure out of meeting somebody with an Irish accent who has no difficulty with his accent.

The fog is now lifting slowly, breakfast has been made and taken, now it is time to go downstairs again and shower and shave and take on the day on a journey to the collector of African masks, a left over from the rich tribal culture of Africa.