The house in which we lived and where I grew up, Franz-Josef-Kai 65, stood at the corner between the Kai and the Theresienstraße, both with names of the Habsburg royalty who enjoyed the love and gratitude of Viennese Jews, including my parents. The window of my grandparent´s flat all looked down on the elegant Kai bordering the Donaukanal, but all but one window in our apartment looked onto the quite humble Theresienstraße and more specifically onto the Rossauerkaserne. The latter is an imposing large red brick barrack- a building stretching over several blocks with battlements on top, all around. It was then and I believe it still is, in active use. “I am sick and tired of looking at the barracks”, writes my father, in 1927, eagerly planning a vacation. The Rossauerkaserne was not within talking distance, but close enough for some friendly casual interchanges between some of our household help and the soldiers who lived there, although my last Fräulein, the one I remember best and who stayed with us for the last six years in Vienna was above such fooleries. Twice, in my later life, I had occasion to return to this childhood flat. The second time, only a few years ago, the flat was empty, about to be redecorated. I bent out of the corner bay window and saw a magnificent view, following the Donaukanal, with the Kahlenberg and the Wienerwald still visible in the distance. (…) straight ahead from the same widow, one could see the Augartenbrücke leading from our first Bezirk (districe) across the Donaukanal to the second Bezirk, the Leopoldstadt.

Once, quite by myself, I went to the Prater. Sometimes I think that of all the days of my life, that's the one that I'd most like to have back: the day I tested the dappled horses of the carousels, travelled the magic Grottenbahn, sailed high over the city on the ferris wheel with my imagined daughter.