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 grating are splendid to look at and squint around the Gaden for the dry bread. I scratch their ears and necks, their nostrils and snouts, they are so incredibly velvety. Cheeky, they wander up my sleeve to my scarf, snap at the cords of my lampi-ear cap. Maybe the donkeys think I'm a donkey too?
The sight of people with their ski equipment easily pulls my bowels together. This is nothing new, also otherwise, in general, the sight of people for me often leads to physical ones, hardly noticeable constrictions. The sight of the donkey, the interaction with the donkey in the Reckinger village center, show me, how much the interaction with the donkey can torment me. But by touching the donkey and its reaction to me, sets me up and touches me, comes to my mind, how unfree and documented I am in dealing with the donkey-less. I would say spontaneously: i love the animals. Or no, somehow I don't feel for dogs, Cats, Horses, Cows, Hedgehog, ass, and because I don't feel anything for her and so I have to analyze it, what I feel for her and approach her completely without expectation, the encounters with them are always so overwhelming.
(March 2013)