Sudetenland Tales by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

Sudetenland Tales

Page 8

Autumn, perhaps the most celebrated season, paints the hills in fiery shades of red and gold, a final flourish before the cycle begins anew.

This place, though distant from the mainstream, is not forgotten by those who belong to it. It is a land of quiet endurance, of deep rooted traditions, and of a beauty that does not demand attention but rewards those who take the time to see it. It is a world apart, yet undeniably real; a testament to the lives lived beyond the reach of modern spectacle.

Spectacle. Sixties pundits proved incorrect in their prediction of TV ending people’s attendance at spectacles. Sports stadiums depicted as empty sans players, referees, and fans never came to be. People love spectacle. In its absence they will create it out of nothing. Hence, the growth of loud Sudetenland.

When Lightning Bugs Arrive

The Soundtrack of Our Lives

We're slipping

And we're sliding

And we're riding

On a sinister wave

We're tripping

And we're crumbling

And we're shooting

Off a rocket to space

A challenger, avenger

We're all ready to explode