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#560
Listening, at 6:04 a.m.
I could have missed it. The faint humming of a bike. Behind me, on the street. While I was waiting for the tram. Someone was riding a bicycle. From left to right. From some place to some place. I didn't know why. I just knew that. And suddenly I felt connected. Undetected. The two of us. A person I don't know anything about. Only that they were riding a bike. At the same time, at the same place where I was. In the dark and early hours of this vast city. What if I had missed this? If I hadn't listened?
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#546
See Mum, see Dad, I've become autonomous. You changed my diaper, fed me, taught me. But now I am grown. I don't need you anymore. I am free. - And because I am free, I can choose to carry you always with me. What we have experienced. The travelling. The laughing. The crying. Everything is on my mind. In my heart. And I know, it always will.
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#544
„Ich bin kein Läufer, ich bin ein Wanderer, und wenn die Füße weh tun, nehm ich halt den Zug.“
- Anna Mabo
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#543
What is left when I don’t post anymore?
Not on LinkedIn, not in blogs,
not on Instagram, not on Bluesky.
When I stop telling the world
that I exist—
alive, performing,
bragging in pictures, words, arguments.
What is left when it is only me?
Myself,
and the life that presses close—
every minute, every second.
A life without likes,
without shares, without reach.
Yet a life I can touch,
that touches me now:
on this old train along the coast,
window open,
the sun on my skin,
the wind in my hair—
grey now,
but still,
still.
Can I bear such a life?
With all its cracks
no longer hidden.
With all its vibrant silence.
A life fragile in its worth,
priceless in its seeming worthlessness.
I want to dare it.
I do.
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#541
On holiday
Outside, in the distance, the mountains have disappeared behind greyness. Summer rain is falling, barely audible. The window of the hotel room is open. A light breeze carries this summer morning into the room.
Inside, me, sitting in bed, writing. Not much to do today. Finding a place for breakfast. Catching the train at 1 p.m. To leave this town. Towards another town.
But that will be in another time.
Now is the present.
The raindrops. The gentle breeze. Completeness.
Everything I longed for - in a hotel room in Villach, Austria.
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#534
Wer geliebt werden will
sammelt Likes
ist auf der Hut
gefällt anderen
übernimmt Meinungen
folgt Trends
passt sich an
erfüllt Erwartungen
Wer liebt
ist frei.
(21 November 2019)
by chance 