Wind moves the tree. So she was moved. First in the trunk. About the middle. And finally in the tips. Lived and loved her. Shook the motionless tree. When a standstill shook her. And froze her to death as a tremor. ...
Diary_3004_3_Selfporträit with body-warm thoughts
Mjs oduesP. Thinking out loud. Pause, think about it, what it is: that I can do nothing and have no talent for anything and rattled through all the tests, and because I'm trying, to somehow work through me ...
Diary_3004_Wake up in Ghost City
You see, that a world becomes a heap of ruins, but there are no guilty parties, and no logical explanation either. How will I allow myself to be devastated .... Lately, and in principle, I have not been able to live anymore, without this rare And ...
Candles on the tree
Snap lights on their faces. Flames, tender, but brought together. Flaming sea warmth. Then a bluish shiver, Kampf auf Hauchesstufe, nur Innendrin gewaltiges Überfliessen, in den Nadelkranz verkrallte Wachsarme. W ...
New Years resolutions
I think, I should. I thought so now and then. I think i could. Oft. I should u could. But whether I wanted to? Ich muss darüber nachdenken Ich denke, I wanted, But I could not. I should, but i didn't want to. ...
we're getting new windows
I am a winter rider on a glass plate. As thin as paper, crackling like pond ice. who would have thought, dass wir unseren Ausblick einmal herausbrechen und uns bringen um eine Perspektive von Innen und Aussen. There remains a hole, through which the wind ...
Retro_Diary_2016
4.3.2016 To a certain extent, she had stolen her freedom, to shape their own lives. Now nature was there, to repay that freedom. she had (for good reasons?) didn't believe anyone, but now, where it was soon too late, ...
Retro_Diary_2016
11.4.2016 At forty it went through her mind, that between twenty and thirty she had lived exclusively for devotion. Some guy had that devotion, counted for an ass, which she had shaped into a star in her imagination. Quick b ...
Retro_Diary_2013 I love the donkey
4.3.2013 This year clouds have risen over the Gomsertal. They hang black-blue over the old brown snow. The trees on the slopes are skeletal. Only the donkeys behind the rotten wooden grille are magnificent to look at and squint around the garden ...
to clean up
One night I got up and made the river flow, without water, rubbed stones together, until they glowed, without starting a fire. I filled my travel boxes with air and lit the hut with the passion of my breath, aber sie br ...