... make music.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Saturday, January 14, 2012
Saturday, January 07, 2012
Six Days in 88 years
New Year's Day.
A man, his elbows leaning on kitchen's sill;
his head resting in his palms;
himself: lost in thought;
in many thoughts ...
Suddenly his eyes notice:
A woman in a wheel chair.
A man, his elbows leaning on kitchen's sill;
his head resting in his palms;
himself: lost in thought;
in many thoughts ...
Suddenly his eyes notice:
A woman in a wheel chair.
Pushed by a man.
Walking fast.
Escorted by a an Australian shephard.
Behind this trio:
A couple in their 30s.
She: pregnant in the 36th week, leading a 14 years old mongrel, somehow a mixture of a Romanian Mioritic Shepherd Dog and an Irish Wolfhound.
She: pregnant in the 36th week, leading a 14 years old mongrel, somehow a mixture of a Romanian Mioritic Shepherd Dog and an Irish Wolfhound.
He: Leading another Australian shephard.
Both, respectively the four of them:
Walking fast, too.
Somehow too fast.
Somehow too fast.
As if running away, trying to escape.
Trying to escape what?
Like a procession. Somehow surreal. Described by García Márques or Borges.
The man does not dare to move.
Hoping brother-in-law, niece and her husband will not look up and ...
think: bloody voyeur.
January 6th.:
The 62nd anniversary of the old woman's marriage.
Oh, how does she love him; him who died almost 12 years ago.
They will never understand.
A 16 year old girl in love with a 20 year old boy who soon will be forced to fight a war.
Flight/expulsion/displacement;
waiting for him: ten years lost!
Their youth!
She had loved her son's girl from the first moment.
Why?!
Why will she not be allowed to hold her grandchild in her arms?
Nine months.
Nine months ago it began.
Pain in the back.
She? She who four months ago has thought she'd not see her great-grandchild now, after she has got this pacemaker will – probably – not only have to follow the coffin of her daughter (-in-law), but about two weeks later hold her (the daughter's) grandchild in her arms.
'Life's not fair', the old woman says.
The man, his elbows leaning on the kitchen table,
his head resting in his palms,
does nod. Imperceptible. Almost.
'However, love, mother ...'
It is not exactly to understand what he murmurs.
Trying to escape what?
Like a procession. Somehow surreal. Described by García Márques or Borges.
The man does not dare to move.
Hoping brother-in-law, niece and her husband will not look up and ...
think: bloody voyeur.
January 6th.:
The 62nd anniversary of the old woman's marriage.
Oh, how does she love him; him who died almost 12 years ago.
They will never understand.
A 16 year old girl in love with a 20 year old boy who soon will be forced to fight a war.
Flight/expulsion/displacement;
waiting for him: ten years lost!
Their youth!
She had loved her son's girl from the first moment.
Why?!
Why will she not be allowed to hold her grandchild in her arms?
Nine months.
Nine months ago it began.
Pain in the back.
She? She who four months ago has thought she'd not see her great-grandchild now, after she has got this pacemaker will – probably – not only have to follow the coffin of her daughter (-in-law), but about two weeks later hold her (the daughter's) grandchild in her arms.
'Life's not fair', the old woman says.
The man, his elbows leaning on the kitchen table,
his head resting in his palms,
does nod. Imperceptible. Almost.
'However, love, mother ...'
It is not exactly to understand what he murmurs.
Sunday, January 01, 2012
Happy New Year
Let's try again :)
May 2012 bring you and those around you:
Health
love
peace
inspiration
success
leisure
contentment
and
- in case something does not immediately work -
lots of serene calmness and calm serenety.
And having got everything, or not,
let us never forget:
We need a little madness.
Let's dance!
Saturday, December 31, 2011
Same Procedure as every Year
If counted well the Germans today can/could watch Dinner for one (The 90th Birthday) - history here - 16 times at different times on various TV-channels, and aside from the original in various German dialects inclusive a Swiss version.
Very strange folks, the Germans.
Well, judge for yourself.
Tiny tip-off: Be absolutely determined not to laugh.
Very strange folks, the Germans.
Well, judge for yourself.
Tiny tip-off: Be absolutely determined not to laugh.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Where there is a will ...
... there is no way.
No one will come to know why I laughed til I cried, yesterday night.
Neither there will anyone come to know why I (almost) desperately cried tonight.
[At least, not now.]
... ' cause I would not tell, which again would be another story.
Laughter and sadness: siblings they are.
Thus, to all who – despite I do find amazing that so many people in 2011 would still be conditioned to believe in what they have been told in their youth:
Don't start thinking (yourself). Just enjoy what you have been taught to think you believe: Merry whatever.
Don't start thinking (yourself). Just enjoy what you have been taught to think you believe: Merry whatever.
Sunday, December 18, 2011
Saturday, December 17, 2011
Nothing to share
(Even when you are longing:)
Sadness can not be shared.
You may talk about to one person, to ten, to hundreds.
Even if being empathic: No one will feel the same. None will (be able to) share your sadness.
Same goes for love, for any of your feelings. They are unique.
You are unique.
I am unique.
Hoorah!
The peace of the night.
...
And what is when they grow 232 kg of sweet corn to produce one litre of ethanol?
Now, that's organised stupidity / crime.
I am not willing to share.
 |
| Kestrel, not in need of maize/ethanol. |
Friday, December 09, 2011
Tuesday, December 06, 2011
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