revisit a German village where I once lived

When I left the place, Germany was still a divided country. I’d like to see what has become of the street where I spent three years of my life. I want to see whether the cows and horses are still pastured in the same place, whether the man living in that old tin shack still keeps white ducks that mysteriously disappear just before Christmas each year, whether the bakery still sells the same bread and cakes, and whether the little flower shop on the corner still bursts with exotic colors and scents. I want to visit my old piano teacher. Very likely, he has passed away, and I will have to leave a potted plant at the cemetery. He was in ill health when we left town, about 20 years ago. I want to hear the bells pealing from all corners of the village in the blue glow of evening. Some places stay in your mind—and in my daydreams I still walk along those clean, quaint streets and paths.