It was winter, it was cold. In the north it snowed. But Stuttgart is in Schwabenland.
I watched the Spätzle fall from the sky, the egg noodles slithered down the window pane, they covered everything. Snow covers everything and makes the going hard. But Spätzle is much worse.
I saw the people, sorry, I mean Schwabs, struggling through the Spätzle-covered streets. They didn't complain, they just moved slowly, life is hard, they work hard, they say nothing, they struggle through the Spätzle.
The Schwabs think that I am crazy, because I laugh, they have no time for that. I laugh at myself, why should I take myself seriously. The Schwabs cannot understand this and shake their heads.
The sky got darker and the Spätzle thicker, soon Maultaschen was falling. Big lumps of Maultaschen hitting the ground, hitting the faces of the Schwabs, but they just struggled on.
But the Schwabs did that yesterday, and the day before. For the Schwabs there is always a deep layer of noodles on the ground, they always have to struggle. They don't complain, they just move slowly, it is hard, they work hard, they say nothing, they struggle through life.
Maybe I dreamt this.