Danube mist

As through a rift in the time-space continuum, I am suddenly back in that same armchair. For long this alcove, in front of the large windows with the block letter sign saying "Flughafen Wien", served as the nexus of my academic writing. Thinking back, I cannot count all the papers that have been finalized right here, waiting for a flight up to Copenhagen.

This morning, I find myself en route to Britain, more precisely to Nottingham for a conference on global justice. I should go over the presentation once more. But I just wanted to share that moment when my flight made its final approach through the Danube mist, the serenity of the white polished facades of the city and then suddenly, a hundred or so ultra-orthodox Jews from Brooklyn applauding a safe landing at runway 11/29.