H O E X T E R H O L O G R A M

Westphalia, Nov 2013

 
Ho Ho Hoexter…what a pleasure to return to this little enclave of ease and comfort after such a while. Last time we were all strangers expecting strangeness, August sun and carnival, this time we´re happy to meet people dear to our hearts, to face sounds dear to our heads....

But at first historical twilights, digging in the muddy dirt of an alleged correctness. The evil and the sun, Sorath and the frisson of reading between the lines...occvlt observance...
Quick time lessons and diluting art at Walhalla...six o ´clock and “I will walk you out” she says. Friendly assertiveness and doubtlessly we understand.

So one castle fades away and the next appears at the horizon...What a frequency of past! Appeasing to realize that nothing seemed to have changed here, except seasons and daytimes.
It feels good to be here. Noises and conversations, acquaintances and family relaxation.
Seeing the guys of Salvation AMP feels like never been away, like leaving for just buying some cigarettes, Reptyle´s way crossed the own more than once up to now (even in a personell-wise way for a while) and Sweet Ermengarde appeared firstly on our screen two years ago...at the edge of mercurian dawns. Stations in Bochum and he confessed “This night you won” contritely...

And the stable is filling and realizing certain faces it feels like being more than just guests in East-Westphalia. Minor geography and it´s intimicy. But the crowd is waiting now and the smoke machine is ready to serve...so... Ludi incipiant!

later...

What do I remember?
Mainly great songs I heard and an audience giving all it got. Not that usual frozen urban army (thin ice, I know!), but sweat and tears... analogously. And I remember drunken ghosts and colleagues named after islands (oh yes, there´s still a talk to be done if the ways are clear again!), dissappearing drink tickets and burning stars on a black cope, the coldness outside  and the celebration within. And the faces at the breakfast table reveal that it was the hell of a night. Tired soldiers, wrapped in the enemies´ uniform (whatever name the label bore...)

Farewells chilled through and the promise to return, sealed with coffee, beer and cigarettes. See you, Hoexter...you always meet thrice!

Hoexter, Nov 2013