Impossible Beauty

Flying home from Vienna, above Saint George's channel.

And above the Irish Sea.  Drifting in the impossible beauty of this planet, praying the American president doesn't frack it up.

View from my seat in the red velvet loge behind door number six.

The perfection.  Placido Domingo conducting the house band, part of the Vienna Philharmonic Orchestra to accompany the performance of Puccini's opera Tosca at the Wiener Staatsoper.

Followed by a night on the town with David.

Vienna, enchanting even in February with the debris of melting snow.

The local supermarket.  A far cry from Walmart.

Wiener schnitzel and beer at the restaurant around the corner.

Ice skating at the Rathaus.

 On a street art walk with Luisa along the Donau Canal.

Exploring the city.

Just as I was losing compass....

Back to old haunts...always offering something as yet undiscovered.  The Belvedere.

This time some of the Klimt paintings usually at the Leopold were out on loan (like to stop in and admire the shimmering gold), but this allowed me to realize how much I admire a contemporary and arguably, protege of Klimt's, Austrian artist  Egon Schiele.

Family time at home.

David, in his freshly renovated apartment, the kitchen only installed days ago, practicing for a bluegrass gig at The Beaver Brewing Company that evening.  How he juggles a busy work schedule (multitasking Sunday morning: preparing for a conference in Stockholm Tuesday, collaborating with someone in France on a project due Monday when he will also be onboarding a new Ph.D student, and this following a couple weeks of teaching a group and monitoring their efforts in the lab) with family and amazing to watch.


Why doesn't this picture, taken at the airport, over a final cappuccino and chocolate croissant reflect the melancholy, the silhouette of the airplane out the window foreboding my departure from loved family?