Another mighty wind heaved me to Vienna. I crossed the bridge to the Donauinsel, a narrow island penetrating the city like a splinter; towers, bridges, radio masts, steeples, smokestacks and skyscrapers threw themselves up on either side as if I was watching fast-forwarded footage of urban growth. Flyovers and railway lines whooshed past, speeding towards some calamitous convergence. Graffiti in a mix of languages read ‘Vote Communist’, ‘Juden Schwein’, ‘All Coppers Are Bastards’, and then the city’s core unfolded into façaded squares, boulevards, tramlines, pitted fin-desiècle buildings
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Ah home sweet home.
