Memory: Gate to the Emmental

In October before 30 Years ago I was in the potato field with Clara. The field was on the slope, steeply below the farmhouse, where Clara lived with her parents and four brothers. Clara's brother Johann wore a blue jumpsuit and went with de ...

Diary, 29.10.2020 (with a scene “the Piano”)

In a state of complete loss of consciousness, I could watch, how someone stretched out his arm several times towards a complete stranger; I. A voice called, I heard it: "Give me your hand, please ... please ... give me your hand .... please ...

Early diaries, 2004

  6.9.2004 Blue Coast. Saw the sea. Its noise; a dark tone, like artillery, which bursts on the rock. It was so wild, far out, maybe even between Tunis and Marseille storms. Wind, the waves up to ours ...

Early diarys, 2004

26.7.2004 The little Iraqi girl plays hairdresser for my hair. A mysterious sermon flits over her lips. Your little world. Your huge little world, spun in my hair. (Get a taste of the Tscharnergut in the day care center)

Early diarys, Olympiastadion Berlin, 1998

Olympiastadion Berlin, 1998 Shadow falls on the stairs, which border on the sky. The places, brown plastic benches, die von weiten wirken wie in die Luft gebaute Springhürden oder rostige Haarnadeln, they are evacuated. It's Sunday. There are ...

Words, Poem by Silvia Plath

by Sylvia Plath: Axes after whose stroke the wood rings, and the Echoes! Echoes, travelling from centre like horses. The sap wells like tears, like the water striving to re-establish its mirror over the rock. The drops and ...

a faulty course, Beginning, 2019

Shortly before my thirty-ninth birthday, I was overcome by such a paradoxical, unfounded fear, that I wish, to go crazy. I didn't mean to be moronic, But if I was mad enough, would it be possible for me ...

2.30 AM (before noon)

A resinous squeak as always at this time. The first roller shutter goes up. shift work, maybe. At the same time someone opens the hot water tap upstairs, a night bath for day trippers, lucky two. As children we used to sit in the tub ...

Diary: Desires are desired

As long as I wasn't serious about writing, I thought writing was a great thing. The more seriously I was writing, and therefore the better I wanted to get at it (for me and by my standards), the more uncomfortable it has become for me, d ...