From London via Amsterdam to Berlin,
without an Airportphobia and on a story telling track.
LONDON CITY/ INT. TYRELL CORPORATION INTERROGATION ROOM
The room is large and humid. Rows of salvaged junk are stacked neatly against the walls. Two large FANS WHIRR above their heads.
LEON: Okay if I talk?
Holden doesn’t answer. He’s centering Leon’s eye on the machine.
LEON: I kinda get nervous when I take tests.
HOLDEN: Don’t move.
He tries not to move, but finally his lips can’t help a sheepish smile.
LEON: I already had I.Q. test this year… but I don’t think I never had a…
HOLDEN: Reaction time is a factor in this so
please pay attention. Answer as quickly as you can.
LEON: Uh… sure…
HOLDEN: One one eight seven at Hunterwasser…
LEON: Oh… that’s the hotel.
LEON: Where I live.
HOLDEN: Nice place ?
LEON: Huh? Sure. Yeah. I guess. Is that.. part of the test ?
Holden smiles a patronising smile.
HOLDEN: Warming you up, that’s all.
„What is here told,“ Van Helsing laid his hand heavily and gravely on the packet of papers as he spoke, „may be the beginning of the end to you and me and many another, or it may sound the knell of the Un-Dead who walk the earth. Read all, I pray you, with the open mind, and if you can add in any way to the story here told do so, for it is all important. You have kept a diary of all these so strange things, is it not so? Yes! Then we shall go through all these together when we meet.“ He then made ready for his departure and shortly drove off to Liverpool Street. I took my way to Paddington, where I arrived about fifteen minutes before the train came in.
(Bram Stoker; Dracula)
PRINCE HENRY: Swearest thou? Ungracious boy, henceforth ne’er look on me. Thou art violently carried away from grace. There is a devil haunts thee in the likeness of an old fat man. A tun of man is thy companion. Why dost thou converse with that trunk of humors, that bolting-hutch of beastliness, that swollen parcel of dropsies, that huge bombard of sack, that stuffed cloakbag of guts, that roasted Manningtree ox with the pudding in his belly, that reverend Vice, that gray iniquity, that father ruffian, that vanity in years? Wherein is he good, but to taste sack and drink it? Wherein neat and cleanly but to carve a capon and eat it? Wherein cunning but in craft? Wherein crafty but in villany? Wherein villanous but in all things? Wherein worthy but in nothing?
(William Shakespeare; King Henry the Fourth)
Samuel Pepys on medival matters of the Harwich-Hamburg shipping line: „After dinner I by water to the Duke of Albemarle, and there had a little discourse and business with him, chiefly to receive his commands about pilotts to be got for our Hambro’ ships, going now at this time of the year convoy to the merchant ships, that have lain at great pain and charge, some three, some four months at Harwich for a convoy. They hope here the plague will be less this weeke. Thence back by water to Captain Cocke’s, and there he and I spent a great deale of the evening as we had done of the day reading and discoursing over part of Mr. Stillingfleet’s “Origines Sacrae,” wherein many things are very good and some frivolous.“( Samuel Pepys)
He told them of his own escape out of London, and all that he knew of these Martians and their ways. The sun crept higher in the sky, and after a time their talk died out and gave place to an uneasy state of anticipation. Several wayfarers came along the lane, and of these my brother gathered such news as he could. Every broken answer he had deepened his impression of the great disaster that had come on humanity, deepened his persuasion of the immediate necessity for prosecuting this flight. He urged the matter upon them.
„We have money,“ said the slender woman, and hesitated.
Her eyes met my brother’s, and her hesitation ended.
„So have I,“ said my brother. She explained that they had as much as thirty pounds in gold, besides a five-pound note, and suggested that with that they might get upon a train at St. Albans or New Barnet. My brother thought that was hopeless, seeing the fury of the Londoners to crowd upon the trains, and broached his own idea of striking across Essex towards Harwich and thence escaping from the country altogether. (War of the Worlds)
I saw, I saw the harbor lights
They only told me we were parting
Same old harbor lights
That once brought you to me
Watched to there and watched the harbor lights
How could I help if tears were starting
Goodbye to tender nights
Beside the silvery sea
I long to hold you
And kiss you just once more
But you were on the sea
And I was on the shore
Now I, now I know lonely nights
For all the while my heart is whispering
Some other, other harbor lights
Will steal your love from me.
(Lyrics ; Jimmy Kennedy/Music; Will Grosz)
OUT OF THE HARBOR TO NORTH SEA
Vessels moving… I can feel the wiind in my face and the spray of the sea.
HOOK VAN HOLLAND
„It was still a couple of hours till dawn when we dropped anchor in the Hook van Holland. Snow covered everything and the flakes blew in a slant across the cones of the lambs and confused the glowing discs that spaced out the unrodden quay. I hadn’t known that Rotterdam is a few miles inland. I was still the only passanger in the train and this solitary entry, undercover by night and hushed by the snow completed the illuson that I slipping into Rotterdam, and into Europe, through a secret door.“
(Sir Patrick Michael Leigh Fermor: A Time of Gifts)
James Bond: What can I bring you back from Holland?
Miss Moneypenny: A diamond? In a ring?
James Bond: Would you settle for a tulip?
Miss Moneypenny: Mm, yes.
…or prefer a pyramid of three liter bucketts of Nutella?
Comes as hot chocolate sauce on Belgium Wafers.
BERLIN CENTRAL STATION
Finally … Home to lovely Berlin…
Unser kleiner Mozart
Von morgens halb fünf bis nachts um halb eins. Die Stadtbahn fuhr alle drei Minuten. Jedesmal rief eine Frauenstimme durch den Lautsprecher auf den Bahnsteig: Lehrter Straße. Lehrter Straße. Das wehte rüber bis nach uns. Von morgens halb fünf bis nachts um halb eins. Achthundertmal: Lehrter Straße. Lehrter Straße.
Am Fenster stand Liebig. Morgens schon. Mittags. Und nachmittags noch. Und die endlosen Abende: Lehrter Straße. Lehrter Straße.
Sieben Monate stand er nun schon am Fenster und sah nach der Frau. Da drüben mußte sie irgendwo sein. Mit ganz netten Beinen vielleicht. Mit Busen. Und Locken. Vorstellen konnte man sie sich. Und auch sonst noch. Liebig sah stundenlang rüber, wo sie sang. Durch sein Gehirn ging ein Rosenkranz. Bei jeder Perle betete Liebig: Lehrter Straße. Lehrter Straße. Von morgens halb fünf bis nachts um halb eins. Morgens schon. Mittags. Und nachmittags noch. Und die endlosen Abende: Lehrter Straße. Lehrter Straße. Achthundertmal jeden Tag. Und Liebig stand nun schon sieben Monate am Fenster und sah nach der Frau. Denn man konnte sie sich vorstellen. Mit ganz netten Beinen vielleicht. Mit Knien. Busen. Und mit viel Haar. Lang, endlos lang wie die endlosen Abende. Liebig sah nach ihr hin. Oder sah er nach Breslau? Aber Breslau war ein paar hundert Kilometer weit weg. Liebig war aus Breslau. Ob er abends nach Breslau sah? Oder betete er diese Frau an? Lehrter Straße. Lehrter Straße. Endloser Rosenkranz. Mit ganz netten Beinen. Lehrter Straße. Achthundertmal. Und mit Busen. Morgens schon. Und mit endlosem endlosem Abendhaar. Und das ging von der Lehrter Straße bis Breslau. Bis in den Traum rein. Bis Breslau. Bis Bres – – Breslauer Straße – – Breslauer Straße – – Alles aussteigen – – Aussteigen – – Alles aus – – Alles aus – – Alles – – Alles – – Bres – – lau – – (…)
(Wolfgang Borchert bei Projekt Gutenberg)