Fritz Schramm

A May breeze blew through the blooming gardens. Clusters of lilacs hanging over the old walls exuded a thick, sweet scent. The artist Fritz Schramm walked slowly through the old streets of a small town. At times, he stopped when a small bay window or an old-world pediment, very dreamily outlined against the background of the evening sky, attracted his artistic gaze. His hand involuntarily reached for the album, a few quick strokes - and a sketch appeared on the paper. Pausing again to sketch the dilapidated garden wall, he laughed, shook his head, checked his watch, and quickened his pace. But soon his gait became carelessly slow again. "Let them wait," he thought, "the evening is too beautiful..."