Frankfurt has always been a crossing—first a ford of the Franks on the Main, later a free imperial city where emperors were elected and crowned, later still a trade-fair town that learned to live by deals. Goethe was born here. The Römer on the square was city hall, market hall, and imperial backdrop all at once. Most of the old core vanished in 1944 and was put back in pieces, so the city now does two things at once: it keeps a reconstructed medieval square for the photograph and a skyline of banks for the work. The river still runs through the middle, unimpressed by either.
For us Frankfort is more of a recover point. After a (very) short Iceland connection. No sleep on plane and no time to take photos in Iceland. They were calling our names as we got to the Frankfurt gate. A bit worried about what missing sleep will do to me. Not so much from a catastrophe, but cumulative effect…
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