In which the night is mild and deep and smells of fish.

Once upon a few weeks ago in Hamburg (remember Hamburg? -- still my pearl), good weather led to soaring spirits led to spontaneous adventuring led to an Elbe stroll to finish up the finest of Blue Hours. 'Round 11 p.m. in early July, sky finally settling down hue or two, the Sunshine Frenzy that had most certainly been swarming the harbor a few hours before had buzzed down to a few colonies of Young Persons hooliganning and a few disco boats popping their neon beats across the river ripples. Schooners swaying slightly to acknowledge a passing ferry, the unfinished Elbephilharmonie enjoying a smooth cocktail of time and city funding, Simba and Nala living somewhat happily ever across the way (now that they can finally take those sweaty costumes off for another night). Wandering through the spookily lit streets of the Speicherstadt, all silent but for the creaking of ships, the sighing of docks under footsteps, and the ghost of Michael Jackson wafting down the canals and sneaking in through the open windows of multimilliondollar HafenCity flats, summoned all the way from Neverland by a teenage party at the end of the pier. 'illie Jean-ean is not my-y-y 'over-er-er... I was amazed (and admittedly a little schadenfroh) at how one loud neighbor could probably maul the sleep of every resident even in this most deluxe of quartiers. Na ja.

Lights, camera, action.

(As per usual, click for a closer look.)