A Diversion

(18-21 May 1991) after William Wordsworth

I don’t want to leave Switzerland until I can say I have seen the Alps, but beyond the third row of hills from Zurich the Alps are hidden in the mist and cloud. It rains, it drizzles, it shines for a time as a patch of blue passes over the Limmat. In the narrow streets of the Altstadt, human beings exorcise their desires. Nature is merely a diversion for us; we no longer feel dependent on place or season. I stand on the shore of the cold Lake Zurich and contemplate the burden of our crimes, but I wouldn’t give up my comfortable hotel room to live with the swans under the Quaibruke.