Sit­ting all af­ter­noons along the shore where the spray of the waves of the Elbe vi­su­al­ly evap­o­rates on the basalt heat­ed in the sun, the Elbe, the riv­er that orig­i­nates about a thou­sand kilo­me­ters back in the Krkonose Moun­tains and flows through cities like Hradec Králové, Ústí nad Labem, Dres­den, Wit­ten­berg (not to be con­fused with Wit­ten­berge or Wit­ten­ber­gen), Magde­burg, Wit­ten­berge (not to be con­fused with Wit­ten­berg or Wit­ten­ber­gen) be­fore reach­ing Ham­burg and the Jol­len­hafen - re­mind­ing me of the suc­cess­ful Martin Jol - of the Müh­len­berg­er Segel-Club, one of the sail­ing clubs, the oth­er be­ing the Blanke­neser Segel-Club, whose ves­sels can be told apart main­ly by their right an­gled and re­spec­tive­ly di­ag­o­nal vex­il­lum at­trib­ut­es, where I'm read­ing Ulysses wear­ing a blueish bam­boo de­sign Tom­my Ba­hama silk shirt bought at Macy's in New York and La­coste dock­sides from Düs­sel­dorf, bought on Queens­day which isn't the birth­day of the dutch queen but has usu­al­ly nicer weath­er than the less fes­tive real event, in the sun­shine in the be­gin­ning of April, watch­ing ships pass by and Air­busses take off from XFW, mighty bel­u­ga's head­ing for Toulouse, where it's ac­tu­al­ly cold­er than in Ham­burg these days.