Enjoying nature and photography.
Getting high and falling low,
so low,
oh empty streets
where heartbeats vanished silently,
broken love blows through the streets.
Crows bemoan their apathy,
last glow
has vanished gently, still
denial lies in wait
as soundless silence widens up
to occupy the mind.
slowly,
these days,
they fade away.
märz, april, mai,
vorbei am frühlingsregen in den see;
a sea of tears.
fader geschmack nach sommergras.
ein moment indem ich nur verlier,
verlor, vergessen – who cares?
wer bricht aus?
ordinary geworden vor lauter schreck,
a hum of maybe,
in der luft,
vielleicht auch nicht.
one step back
one step gone
one step ahead
on the way to die
no way to lie
as a hidden crack
runs down my spine
breaking bones
aching mind
stumbling blind
through the sticks and stones
leave me out
leave no doubt
never grieve
relieve me now
entangled thoughts
unstable ground
strangled at their roots
and no more sound
all alone, all the way
maybe it's too late
soul is blown away
maybe it's all fate
Erinnerst du dich?
Ich sah den fernen Morgen: Heller Schnee an dunklem Firmament, ein Spiegel seiner selbst, klar und rein.
Ich sah die Dunkelheit: Aus dem Schatten getrieben, gewachsen in das Licht, und doch nur ein Schatten seines selbst geblieben.
Ich sah den stolzen Gang vor den Massen der Gleichartigkeit. 100 stolze Gänge, alle für sich allein.
Ich sah euch, versteckt im Unterholz, im Schatten der Giganten, in der Blüte der Zeit, ihr branntet aus wie leise letzte Sterne, und verschwandet für immer.
Ich sah dich, trotz deiner lautlosen Schwingen der Sehnsucht, gestrandet am fernen Strand. Zusammen mit mir.
Erinnerst du dich?
Be.
Be yourself.
Be by yourself.
Don't be what is expected.
Be honest.
Honest to yourself.
Träume muss man immer haben. Sie sind mir lieber als die Erinnerungen.
Sterne und Stürme, Gaston Rébuffat
The time of winter vegetables is over and suddenly there is a lot more than only cabbage: cucumber, green beans, salad, kohlrabi (why is this the correct English word?), and fennel. Especially on the island, things seem to grow fast. In accordance, April continued the temperature high of the first three months and brought us 30 degrees before my birthday. Just to plummet to zero afterwards. Thus, somehow here we are, still discussing e-fuels and heat pumps. So, instead of debating politics, we continued to learn a lot about birds. Most recent progress includes the effortless identification of the songs of the short-toed treecreeper, the willow warbler, and the Savi’s warbler – black birds and starlings are breeding in the garden, and the frogs intone their chants. I am ready for summer.
The plumage arranged
and each feather exchanged,
while yonder awaits
those who ponder and wait,
as wings are awaiting blue skies.
Drawn to the void inside
alloyed by sweat and tears,
in search for heavy feet
and pure joy on repeat.
I only fear the laziness
while trying to escape the years
to find instead the emptiness
out there, wide landscapes all around,
a place where thoughts do have no doubt.
Halb acht, die Nacht vorbei, der Tag erwacht, du bist dabei, die Dunkelheit wird weggefegt, Trübsal vergeht wenn man aufsteht mir dir, mein Kopf verdreht von dir, der Alltag lacht dank dir, schier unfassbare Lust zu lieben, leben, hier zu sein, Frust weicht, mir scheint mir gehts ganz gut, mir scheint dir auch – das tut ganz gut, just keine Zeit reicht aus mit dir im Haus, ich glaub durchaus da wird was draus.
In most places the twenty-four hours of a day are divided into day and night. In midst a lake there seem to be three phases instead: Fog, sun, and night. And the difference between fog and sun is no less than between day and night. The fog transforms every part of nature: Birds extend their sleep and wait for the sun to arrive; plants are cautious and don’t open up; all the tiny cobwebs are suddenly visible – tiny strings beaded with water pearls. A wet and moist world which is calm and peaceful. Photographers love fog. I love fog.
Punkt im Dunkeln