Süd Am Main

Cars turn in to park on grass verges. I cross with a man in a suit. We think they are criminals, but they’re just classic car collectors. We admire the vehicles. One is tiny, and I comment that I have a friend who collects and restores such things. We inspect some old bone shaker bicycles. No rubber tyres, no gears or chains, a primitive, single, brake. I begin to scrunch together the edges of two large circles of wool that I’m carrying. In the past, I have created a bike this way. This time, I’m making a wearable shelter.  
My suited friend is discussing languages with a group of children. They claim to be able to speak any language. He asks them to speak now dead aboriginal Australian languages. They can’t even pronounce them correctly. The children scorn him for showing off his knowledge at their expense. I point out that it was they, who wanted to show off. 
The children leave, and we cross a main road, discussing the nature of universal language. My friend maintains that hate is universally understood, I counter that kindness is the true universal language, that everything alive understands and appreciates. 
The pavement is blocked, so we walk on the road. I find myself stepping into the air, and drifting along the road. Below, a traffic jam descends into the dry earth. A voice from God, tells me not to to fear the traffic of Süd Am Main. 


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