Blue Suede Shoes

So it's SNOW again. 

They told me so on the radio, yesterday morning, but I wouldn't listen. 

Put on my Blue Suede Shoes (they are black and really cute boots, made for showing-off, not walking through slush). 

Well, He that will not hear must feel. 

Which I did. 

Though: I don't need much time to adjust. Put my face up to the endless grey sky and love to look into that swirl of snowflakes. Thick, feathery ones, dancing before the eyes, caressing my face, melting oh so softly. 

I went to meet three "old girls" from my school in Bremen, here, in Berlin. One of them is my friend since school days - the other two I hadn't seen for umpteenth years. 

How come, that all of a sudden, these school pals discover the urgent need to meet each other? They hunt through Facebook, search Stayfriends and  whatsoever. 

Before: nada. Once in all that time (exactly: one year after leaving school) we had met. Then never again. 

(Except the 4 real good friends whom I see every year several times, and write, and telephone). 

Class reunions make me think of Franz Joseph Degenhard's song, "Old friends" (here is a very rough translation by me): 

"Sometimes you meet in your home town

somebody who - long time ago - has made baloney with you, 

now he stands still and asks: 

"Have you still...? Are you still...? Do you still remember...?" and "Do you still do...?" 

And though nobody wants it you are suddenly silent. 

Suddenly Time grins between you two, he's laughing out of embarrassment ... 

You count all the years and look for your own true history in the face of the other - 

and you can't find it." 

Well, yesterday it was only a 'mini-reunion', and it was nice. 

Nobody stepped on anybody's suede shoes. Only the snow. 

And in October I will see them all again, in Bremen then.