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Solitude
collection of Small things ----- or ----- falling In and Out of love Since 1979
Wishes

We run and hide to be closer to them in the dark corridors of our dreams, like children playing hide-and-go-seek. And when they fail to come looking for us, we set out in pursuit. We search for them behind doors left slightly ajar, dark storm clouds, or the eyes of a childhood friend who in the shadows of our hopes has become a stranger. We seek full of fearful anticipation, afraid that we may find them, terrified that we won't.

Arundhati Roy - The God of Small Things
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My eyes give me away




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Oblivion --------- Besinnungslosigkeit


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Es waren zwei Königskinder,
die hatten einander so lieb,
sie konnten beisammen nicht kommen,
das Wasser war viel zu tief.

Ach Liebster, könntest du schwimmen,
so schwimm doch herüber zu mir!
Drei Kerzen will ich anzünden,
und die soll'n leuchten zu dir.



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Sexism is a widespread mental disease.
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I think it doesn't matter who did what and when and why. Seeking guilt and someone to blame doesn't bring peace. Peace then will only come if one of the participants turns out to be the winner.

What matters is that the people go out on the streets and DEMAND PEACE. Leave it to politicians and diplomats to find solutions. They know what happens behind the curtains. But we the people should not care about that. What we want is PEACE and they have to figure out how to make PEACE - imho.

As long as politicians create PEACE and SAFETY for ALL of us - I couldn't care less how they do it and that is all we can demand - if we will connect the wish for peace to too many obligations - we will stick to the obligations rather than to what we want.

STOP THE VIOLENCE! Give people food and education and safety. So that everybody can sleep at night.

Why are there no daily demonstrations of people wearing signs that demand peace in Palestine?

Why are there no daily demonstrations of people wearing signs that demand peace in Israel?

Do you really think that Hamas and Isreali government could ignore that if it were ALL the people out there?

It is just because our leaders seduce us to play the blame game. Do you see any happy love relationship around you that is based on the lovers blaming each other every day for what they did?

It is easy to forgive if you love. Now we as humanity have the obligation to learn how to forgive people we hate. We have to learn to live in peace with people we hate. It is a difficult task. But otherwise, if we as humanity can't learn it collectively, how do you think the world will look with 8 or 9 or 10 billion???
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I need to tell my story.














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And the weirdest thing is that this house
Has locks to keep the baddies out
But they're mostly used to lock ourselves in.
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In memory of books and Jack London and how one might be misunderstood.

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und wieder eine Eintagsliebe. Falling in and out of love since 1979.
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... und dann gab es immer wieder die Goldmünder dieser Welt. Nie lange genug damit diese irgendwelche Spuren auf ihr hinterließen. Sie kamen und verschwanden. Sie suchten und sie waren einsam. Sie selbst hatte schon verstanden, dass es Eintagslieben gibt und schon lange hielt sie ihr Herz mit beiden Händen fest und trotzdem hoffte sie auf den mit dem sie Freundschaft und Freiheit und Liebe verband.
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One week:

+ three perfumes
+ one skirt
+ one dress
+ two pullovers
+ new hair cut
+ one new bag
+ planned travelling through Croatia and Bosnia next week
+ red nail polish, black pants with high heels and the feeling of being a lady
+ dinner with friends, a guitar, a clarinet and self-made music

lost one friend, irreplaceable.
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A small whistling flew through the air to her ears. Distracted from her thoughts she looked up but couldn't see anything. She moved her head around and noticed a light movement in the trees above her head. A little bit blinded by the sun that was now shining through the leaves, she saw him sitting on a branch of an old oak. He was laughing and continued to whistle. How magic he looked in his green clothes that were perfectly for hiding him between the leaves of the tree. Seine Beine baumelten fröhlich in der Luft. Sie konnte nur wenig von ihm erkennen. Schüchtern blickte sie in den Baum hinauf und versuchte mit zusammengekniffenen Augen durch das Sonnenlicht hindurch etwas zu erkennen.

Als sie begriff, dass er gehen würde und sie wieder zurück alleine mit ihrer Einsamkeit in diesem dunklen Wald war, verlor sie alle Hoffung. Zu sehr hatte sie gehofft in ihm einen Freund zu finden
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How can you live while being in relationships to other people? What to do with all these emotions? How can you manage every day's life?
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I know that you can make it, make it on your own.

You know this life is filled with many sweet companions.
Many satisfying one-night stands
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Do you want to be the moonlight in his cave?
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How do you stop talking with all these people in your head?
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She had not left the forest yet. With the snail shell and the pine needles in the center of the bark from the old tree she continued with her journey. The forest didn't seem so dark anymore. The whispering monsters where still around. She could feel them but they remained at a safe distance. They were hiding between trees and bushes. She felt that she could keep them away for some time. The thoughts about the ones she wanted to safe had almost disappeared. She did not really know anymore who she was. Her past was blurry. Her memory was empty. Just filled with pine needles and snail shells. They reminded her about the places where she found silence and beauty. 

As she was walking through the trees, still frightened by the darkness and the monsters that were still lingering around, she arrived at something that almost looked like a path. Narrow and almost not visible in the dark. A shadow was moving between the trees. One of the monsters tried to come closer. She closed her eyes to fight the fear of. It was clear to her now that only the peace and beauty she found were keeping them away from her. Fear was what would destroy the peace and the missing peace would not allow her to see beauty anymore. She felt how panic rose in her. The monsters came closer. She looked at the tree bark and remembered how the forest had changed on her walk. Do not concentrate on fear. She was terrified. Who spoke? Do not concentrate on fear. It was her own voice which she heard. Her own voice which she hadn't heard for years and ages. Silent and hoarse. She hadn't spoken with anybody, since she woke up from that everlasting sleep. She still felt fear in her belly. Her legs were soft and shaking, her heart was beating. Where are the monsters, she suddenly asked herself. She looked around and could see them hiding behind the trees. Far enough.

She was relieved. But also discouraged. How long could she keep on walking? How long could she bear the loneliness and the fear? How should she not concentrate on fear if it was only herself and herself and herself again? How long would she be able to keep herself company and keep the monsters away just on her own? 

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Tonight there were birds in my room. Picking on my face and my body. I tried to ward them off. But they were too many. I was looking for him. The journey was long, the story was complicated. I woke up and had to close the window.

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For Carisse, the spirit of living



They want to know what I do with all my time. I tell them that sometimes I just sit and think. But I won't tell them what. I've got them running. And sometimes, I tell them, I like to put my head back, like this, and let the rain fall into my mouth. It just tastes like wine.

Clarisse in "Fahrenheit 451" the temperature at which book-paper catches fire and burns

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Colorbomb2

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I am at the top of some mountain chain. The sky above me is blue. I sit on light grey coloured rocks with smooth surface. It is warm. In front of me there is water. Dark blue at parts, silver light blue at other parts, transparent everywhere. There is movement below the surface. Movement that results from the elegant sliding of some animal inside the water. Little slow flashes. I can't recognize what they are. I enjoy the warmth and the silence from the undisturbed surface with the little slow flashes. Somebody is there with me. He is afraid. He wants to know if I can see that too. I try to calm him down. I tell him not to worry. The water's colour turns into an even deeper very expensive looking crystalline blue. I am peaceful and calm. Nothing is there to worry. I can't see him. I just feel his worrying presence and his fear and lack of understanding. At this peaceful place of the earth there will not happen anything bad. Now one of the moving things comes closer to the surface. It appears from the right out of the corner of something that looks like a small bay. It is brown, it passes us with smooth powerful movements. No sound flies through the air. It is pure silence. Slowly the brown figure passes in front of the place where I sit. It is a bear. A big bear, with thick and long and soft fur that is gently moved by water that flows around him. The scenery is enlightened by last sunrays that throw a glooming light from behind the horizon through the air on the still dark blue crystalline liquid. The bear slowly recedes from us. Something small separates from his back and swims away. It is a baby bear that was lying on the back of the big bear. A baby bear that enjoyed being carried through the water and now in the last evening light will enjoy the water himself. There is nothing to worry. There is just happiness about this peaceful moment.


Blue Lake 2

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I am at home. I hear some noise. Some tiny high pitched squeaking. It takes some time until I recognize the source of the sound. I remember the rats in the cage. They sound hungry. Very hungry. There is despair in the squeaks. I had forgotten about them for a long time. I am somewhat surprised that they are still alive. How could they survive although I hat forgotten them for so long?

Now I have to be fast. Now every moment counts. I do not want them to die now and they sound weak. I run to the kitchen to pick up anything I can find. There is bread with raisins. It seems good. I am happy that I found something good I can give them. White bread is pure energy.

I go to the cage. Before I can see them, I realise that it is many different squeaks. I had only two rats. I can only see some irrecognizable brown movement on one of the tiny platforms that are inside the cage. Before I get the visual prove I understand. My rats had become parents. There are around eight cute looking baby rats that try to hide in the corner. They are excited, trying to cling close to each other. Not scared, but full of desire for closeness.

I realize that my two rats had been man and woman. I wanted to take care of that after I got them. But I forgot. Now they have babies.

How could they survive for so long without me caring for them? How could they even get babies? How could they become so strong and healthy. They don't look hungry. The squeezing was just the babies that were trying to get on top of each other. The cage was in my room. How could they be there for so long without me noticing them? What am I going to do with all the babies? The cage will soon be too small and they are going to reproduce again.

However, even with all these thoughts in my head, they still need to eat first. I take the bread and put it between the bars. Mama and papa rat take it and bring it to the babies. I don't see them eating. I am so happy that they are still alive and that my carelessness didn't kill them.

One of them still recognizes me. The male one. I take it outside. I hold it close, it is happy to see me. I lay down on the carpet with the rat in my arms. Happy to be able to keep it close to me. We are friends. I enjoy the relief that they are still alive.

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What about the loneliness that is felt after you gave up searching?
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This is my sister's dream. As a child she was accompanied by it for years.

Walking in the sun on a way through fields enlightened by the sun. Flowers and butterflies and rabbits and bees. Jumping and singing.
Suddenly the sky darkened and she heard the noise of a deathly machine. Roaring, vibrating. She had to run and after this it was never the same again. There were no safety and peace to be found anywhere.

And the picture it is my memory of a perfectly beautiful and yet sad day. The spirit of departure. Oh, those memories. I wish I could be less. I wish I could see less. I wish I could feel less.

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Zero is better than 1/4 or 1/2.
Talking about beautiful things; when?
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All those memories.
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Another Year


Viele Dinge haben sich im letzten Jahr geändert. Ich schreibe Seiten voll mit den endlosen und zufälligen Gedanken die durch mich hindurch treiben. Ich betrete erneut den Raum in dem ich mich selbst entworfen habe und der mir so lange verschlossen war. Es spielt keine Rolle mehr, ob durch mich oder irgendjemanden meine Worte gelesen oder meine Bilder angesehen werden, sie müssen aus mir heraus. Ich schreibe Unsinn, Gedichte, Gedanken, Geschichten, Träume. Ja, es ist schön, wenn ich teilen kann. Aber ich brauche es nicht mehr um darin einen Sinn zu sehen. Vielleicht, weil ich V. endlich aufgegeben habe. Vielleicht, weil ich so viele andere Dinge gefunden habe die mich froh machen.

Morgen ein paar Tage in Lissabon und danach ein paar Tage am Atlantik.

Vielleicht ist es an der Zeit wieder zu photographieren Bilder zu machen und vielleicht macht es mir wieder Spaß. Es wäre schön, ganz besonders für mich.

Ich bin endlich frei und es gibt viel Platz für mich.

I can finally move.
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Plötzlich war er da, dieser Fremde. Draußen ist es dunkel und ich laufe über die Einkaufsstraße. Er war wütend ohne Grund. Besessen. Ich hatte Angst und wusste nicht was ich getan hatte. Ein Schlag. Auf die linke Seite meines Gesichts. Aus dem nichts, mit voller Kraft. Er war inmitten seiner Freunde. Eine kleine Gang. Ein Unbekannter. Einer dieser wütenden Jungen, die die ganze Zeit durch die Stadt streifen. Niemand nimmt mich war. Meine Zunge wird nach draußen gedrückt, in meinem Mund fühle ich Blut. Alles bricht aus mir heraus. Er hat nicht genug. Warum ist er so besessen? Ich fühle mich unterlegen und versuche weg zu laufen. Irgendetwas zieht seine Aufmerksamkeit auf sich. Weg von mir. Ich nutze die Chance und laufe weg. Ich suche J.,nur J. kann mich jetzt noch beschützen. Er ist groß und stark. Er wird diesem Jungen zeigen, dass er mich nie mehr angreifen darf. Ich laufe durch die Einkaufsstraße. Verzweifelt. Um mich herum das Gewirr aus Körpern und Stimmen. Ich bin beinahe blind. Ich kann nur fühlen wo ich bin. Getrieben von Angst, rutsche ich schnell durch die Massen. Vorbei an den Cafés, vorbei an den Kaufhäusern. So wie ich die anderen nicht sehen, sondern nur ihre Anwesenheit spüren kann, nehmen sie mich in diesem riesigen Wust aus Menschen als einzelne nicht wahr. Ich finde J. Der Junge kommt näher. Ich kann ihn nicht sehen, aber ich fühle seine Besessenheit. Seine Wut auf mich. Die Macht mit der er mich sucht um sich an mir zu rächen. Die Macht mit der er mich sucht um seine Wut an mir auszulassen. Ich versuche J. zu erklären was passiert ist. Aus meinem Mund kommt nur Gestammel. Er versteht nicht. Er lacht und blickt freundlich. Ruhig und gelassen. Er ist groß und stark. Er kennt keine Angst. Er kennt nicht dieses Gefühl der Unterlegenheit, das Gefühl der Machtlosigkeit. Er sieht nicht das Blut in meinem Gesicht. Bei dieser Beobachtung merke ich, dass da kein Blut mehr ist. Nur eine Leere, verursacht durch den Schlag, der soviel aus mir herauspresste, was jetzt fehlt. Es ist wie ein Loch in meinem Mund, in meiner linken Wange, zwischen meinen Zähnen. Etwas wurde mit unglaublicher Wucht aus mir herausgepresst. Ich höre Schreie, ich spüre den Jungen näher kommen. Er wird mich gleich entdeckt haben. Er wird gleich da sein und sich wieder auf mich stürzen. Ich will mich hinter J. verstecken, aber er dreht sich zu mir um. Er versteht nicht wieso ich so aufgeregt bin. Ich kann mich nicht verstecken. Die Einkaufstrasse ist so groß und weit, hinter und vor und rechts und links von J. ist alles frei. Kein Schatten, kein Baum, kein Haus. Nur Leere. Der Junge kommt näher. Ich höre wieder Schreie. Wache auf, durch meine Versuche J. zu erklären. Wache aus von der Aufregung. Die Straßenbahn fährt quietschend draußen im Dunkeln an meinem geöffneten Fenster vorbei.
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I am trying to quit smoking again. This time I will use Nicotine Gums and since I am such a reasonable person I will explain to myself and the reader why I think Nicotine Gum are one of the best tools to support quitting regular smoking and may even enable oneself to only smoke the suave ones in a bar with a glass of red wine.

From my simplified view on the physiological difficulties quitting smoking, even with Nicotine Replacement Therapies, is difficult for more or less two reasons.

1) Cigarettes are highly addictive mainly because of the intense feeling of smoke in your lungs and the cigarettes between your lips together with the immediate release of Catecholamines within our mesolimbic pathways (reward system). This yields to such a strong imprinting on our neural systems that with cigarettes as transport medium nicotine becomes one of the most addictive substances we know.

2) The nicotine consumed via smoking is absorbed in short high doses within 5 to 10 minutes so after smoking for years we associate the pleasant feeling with these up and downs of the nicotine level in our bodies that result from smoking a cigarette every one or two hours.

Using Nicotine Gums hits both of these aspects in a different way.

Compared to e.g. Nicotine Plasters it imitates the cyclic raise and fall of the nicotine level, while at the same time it decouples our "memory" from the intense impression of the smoke in our lungs. Thus, as in a simple behavioural therapy, we may intentionally disconnect the need for nicotine from the wish for a cigarette and thus reduce the addictive power of cigarettes. At the end there is only the nicotine withdrawal to survive which will hopefully after some weeks only be there as a solely physiological withdrawal without the craving for a cigarette.

At the same time it is easier to reduce the daily needed amount Nicotine and the withdrawal will hopefully only be a mild one.

So I myself, will use Nicotine Gums in order to quit smoking at home, which seems to be the first and most important step for me to quit smoking finally, or in the way I want to quit it. For some reason I am quite sure that the reasoning it is only possible to either smoke or not smoke is a clever trick of the cigarette industry. I know several people, even Ex-Smokers, who smoke from time to time only. Of course on always has to be in a certain state of awareness about the danger of becoming addicted. However, for some reason I don't want to miss the occasional cigarette with a glass of red wine on an summer evening or a jazz concert.

Your thoughts and ideas are highly appreciated!

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After a minute, a second and another second she raised her head. She kept her eyes on the snails and became thoughtful. There is hardly any other more peaceful silence than the silence that can be experienced by forgetting about oneself. Getting lost in the beauty of a painting or the process of creating or the openness of a friend. She didn't want to take one of the snails away from their place close to each other. But she had to place something on her growing map. She looked around and between the moss she found an empty white and small house. She picked it up and placed it close to the pine needles.

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Current Mood: flying with Tanja

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Confidently she looked on her map. She did not know in which direction she should walk. She remembered the whistling which had woke her up and thought that it came from the direction to her right. Since it did not matter at all as everything looked the same and she had just started to draw a map she decided to walk into that direction. The trees stood close by close and it was difficult to find her way through them. After she was walking for some time she still had the feeling that nothing had changed. She even asked whether she had actually left the place where she had put the pine needles onto the bark. Since her feet already started to feel tired she decided to have a short rest. She was afraid that if she had a rest the scaring voices of the monsters would return. She looked at her map. The pine needles were still lying in the middle of the bark. While looking at them she felt the peace and silence returning. So she sat down on an old trunk and closed her eyes once more. She could now smell the humid soil below her feet. The smell of mushrooms was mixed with green and black. Life. It was life she smelt. She could feel it. She opened her eyes and saw little snails that in a short trail were crawling along an old root. They looked cute and beautiful with their white houses and their little antennae with the black eyes at the top. While she was watching the snails she forgot about everything. She forgot about the forest. She forgot the darkness and the cold. She forgot that she was hungry and tired. She forgot about her search. Finally she even forgot about herself. She kept looking at them and did not realize the passing time.
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Eigentlich sollten beide gerettet werde und wurden auf eine mir unbekannte Weise im Magen der jungen Ratte platziert. Ich glaube sie waren kleiner als sie in die babyratte eingebracht wurden und wuchsen in ihr zu unerwarteten Dimensionen an. Ich wusste auch nicht mehr weswegen wir dies getan hatten. Es schien wichtig und unverzichtbar notwendig. Dort sollten sie wohlbehalten und geschützt die lange Reise in meiner Hand hinter sich bringen. Frankfurt Barcelona und zurück. Immer wieder versuchte die Babyratte mit dem dicken Bauch, gefüllt mit Mama Ratte und Papa Ratte, die Flucht ergreifen. Ich versuchte mein Möglichstes sie nicht weglaufen zu lassen, sie würden schließlich alle drei sterben. Aber das kleine Rättchen konnte das natürlich nicht verstehen. Als ich zurück in meiner Stadt war gab es dort eine Tierschutzorganisation, die ich um Hilfe bat. Ich fragte nach einer Kiste in der ich Mama Ratte und Papa Ratte wieder aus dem Bauch der Babyratte holen konnte. Leider hatten die in der Tierschutzorganisation so gut wie keine eigene Ausrüstung mehr und konnten mir nur ein kleines Plastiktütchen, in Größe und Form nicht unähnlich den Zuckertütchen wie man sie im Cafe bekommt, anbieten. Aber das Tütchen war zu klein um darin eine Babyratte zwei andere Ratten gebären zu lassen. Ich sah beim Tierschutzverein Pappkartons aufeinandergestapelt neben der Rezeption stehen aber ich traute mich nicht zu fragen. Man hätte sie mir bestimmt gegeben, hätte man sie mir geben wollen oder können. Ich ging zurück zum Hotel. In meinem Zimmer angekommen entdeckte ich einen großen Fleck auf meinem Kopfkissen, der durch ein kleines Ölfläschen verursacht wurde, dass das Zimmermädchen unachtsam mit der geöffneten Seite nach unten auf das Kissen gelegt hatte. Ich ging zur Rezeption um nach einem neuen Kissen zu fragen. Sie hatten jedoch keine Kissen vorrätig und mussten mir erst eines nähen. Das ging schnell und war relativ einfach, da diese spezielle Art der Kissen, die Not- und Ersatzkissen, nur mit Luft gefüllt waren. Also faltete und nähte das Mädchen mit leicht genervtem Blick ein Stück lilafarbenes und geblümtes Stück Stoff zu meinem Kissen. Sie hatte das Stück Stoff aus einer Holzkiste geholt in der noch mehr Stoff in anderen Farben sorgfältig zusammengerollt darauf wartete für seinen Bestimmungszweck als Ersatzkopfkissen oder Ersatzdecke gebraucht zu werden.
Die kleine Ratte hielt ich beständig in der Hand, versuchte jedoch sie vor den Blicken der Zimmermädchen abzuschirmen. Ich war zwar der Gast und damit König, aber auch eine noch so königliche Ratte würde hier bestimmt nicht allzu gerne gesehen werden.

Ich ging wieder zurück in mein Zimmer. Dort hatte sich alles verändert. Die Farben waren auf einmal einem sehr dunklen Meeresblau ähnlich, es war das Blau, das man in sehr großer Tiefe findet, dort wo es kaum noch Licht und Leben gibt. Es war kalt und leer. Irgendwie fühlte ich mich verloren in diesem Raum. R. mit dem ich noch vor meiner Abreise nach Barcelona im Bett gespielt hatte und der mich die ganze Zeit so freundlich und fröhlich angeblickt hatte war nicht mehr da. Unsere gemeinsame Freundin auch nicht. Ich suchte ihn und war zwar nicht allzu überrascht aber dennoch enttäuscht als mir klar wurde, dass sie mich tatsächlich verlassen hatten. Zu schön war es gewesen mit ihm den alten Traum wieder aufleben zu lassen. Im Zimmer war alles aufgeräumt. Ich verstand es nicht. Ich irrte durch das leblos aufgeräumte Zimmer und suchte verwirrt nach einem Karton, einer Schublade, irgendetwas in dem die kleine Ratte gebären konnte. Genau in dem Moment als mir bewusst wurde, dass ich mich offensichtlich in der Zimmernummer geirrt hatte und nicht in meinem Zimmer sondern in einem fremden Zimmer war – es lagen doch gewisse Dinge herum, die nicht mir gehörten und die ich mich nicht anders erklären konnte als dass sie mitsamt dem Zimmer zu einer anderen Person gehörten, genau in dem Moment also als mir dies bewusst wurde und ich das Zimmer schnellstmöglich verlassen wollte, öffnete sich die Tür un zwei Freundinnen von mir kamen herein. Ertappt blickte ich sie an. Mit dem eben entstandenen Bewusstsein über mein Eindringen in jemand anderes Zimmer konnte ich nun nicht mehr so tun, als wäre ich überrascht jemand fremdes in meinem Zimmer zu sehen. Zumal die Unterschiede in Zimmereinrichtung und Farbe nun allzu offensichtlich erschienen und es sinnlos bis dumm gewesen wäre alles zu bestreiten. Die beiden waren mir von ihrer Grundstimmung her nicht unbedingt wohlgesonnen. Aber sie blieben freundlich und so versuchte ich ihnen von der kleinen Ratte zu erklären und sie ihnen zu zeigen. Die beiden halfen mir auch ein Handtuch zurecht zu legen und das kleine Rättchen auf das Handtuch zu legen. Jetzt musste ich vorsichtig auf den Bauch der kleinen Ratte drücken. Sie presste. Sie fühlte sich vermutlich sehr dick und sehr schwer. Ich sah, wie sich der Anus der kleinen Ratte dehnte. Er war ganz rot und sah aus als würde er gleich zu bluten beginnen und aufreisen. So ein kleines Rattenärschchen ist doch viel zu klein für die Geburt einer ausgewachsenen Mamaratte. Ich drückte weiter auf den Bauch der Ratte. Obwohl ihr Anus so gespannt war, dass es aussah als würde er gleich platzen schien sie keine Schmerzen zu haben. Eine dicke cremefarbene Wurst drängte sich langsam aus ihr hervor. Etwas, das aussah wie halbverdaute Reste oder vielleicht eine schützende Cremeschicht, die Mamaratte vor den Verdauungssäften im Inneren von Babyratte geschützt hatte. Es war nichts Ekelhaftes an der Situation. Da waren nur Angst und Sorge gemischt mit etwas Verzweiflung über meine Hilflosigkeit. Schließlich drückte sich hinter dem cremigen Zeugs, das auch unverdaute Haarbalgbündel, wie Katzen sie manchmal hervorwürgen, hätte sein können Mamaratte hindurch. Das Hinterteil von Babyratte wurde auf einmal sehr breit nun war alles sehr elastisch und der letzteTeil der Geburt von Mamaratte ging fließend und ohne Kraftakt vonstatten. Nachdem Mamaratte den Bauch von babyratte verlassen wollte wurde sie ruhig und entspannt. Sie schien nun leer zu sein. Es tauchte ein klitzekleines braunes Pappschild auf auf dem in dunkelblauer Schrift „Mutter noch am Leben, Vater bereits verdaut“ geschrieben war. Ich konnte es nicht glauben, wusste aber gleichzeitig, dass ich nichts dagegen tun konnte. Selbst wenn ich versuchte noch mehr aus der kleinen Ratte herauszudrücken, würde ich Paparatte nicht mehr aus ihr herausdrücken können.
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I still have a long way growing up.
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At one day after she had slept for days and ages she thought she heard a sweet whistling. After such a long time of sleeping her mind became really calm and all the unhappy thoughts had disappeared. In her was nothing else but calmness and this sweet whistling. A bit sleepy she opened her eyes and at first she didn’t see much. She was still a bit disappointed when she realized that the forest hadn’t disappeared. But she was grown up enough to understand that only by wishing nothing really changes and that she had to draw a map. But how could she draw a map without a paper and a pen? She looked around. She saw all the pine needles on the floor and there were small sunrays between them. The voices of the monsters had disappeared. She knew that they were still around, waiting to catch her, but they were powerless, since after such a long rest, they couldn’t get through to her ears. Her eyes were caught by an old pine tree which she hadn’t noticed it in her previous despair. But now she could see that its bark was loosening. She stood up. Still a bit frozen. When she arrived at the old pine tree she touched its trunk. She could feel how old it was. Softly she tried if she could remove a piece of bark without hurting the tree. Even after all the wandering through the forest she still wished not to hurt anything. The bark loosened a bit more and suddenly she kept a small piece of it in her hands. Again she heard that sweet whistling. She turned around. She wanted to see what it was, but she didn’t see much more than the now silent forest. Her eyes moved through the tree tops. They were still close by close and the forest was still dark. But she had found the silence in her mind she was looking for such a long time. She understood that she could not replace the unhappy thoughts by happy thoughts. It is something many humans had tried for long and never really achieved. She leaned her head against the old pine tree giving herself to its age. The bark in her hands was coarse and cool. She looked at it. Now, she thought, she would place everything she would find on the bark to mark the places she would pass on her journey. She picked up the small needles and gave them a place in the middle. This was the place where she had found sleep and silence, she would now know how to find it and how to return. When she started to wander through the forest, she could hear the voices of the monsters calling her from far away. But they were not so scary anymore.

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In a dense forest with many pine trees she kept walking through the darkness. There were monsters around her, grabbing after her. She tried not to notice them. She knew if she noticed them they would become stronger. The only strength they had was her believe in them. But while wandering through that forest and looking for a way to get out, her thoughts about the monsters became stronger. She did not know how long she would have the strength to resist their continuous grabbing. Whenever she felt one monster coming too close she thought about sunshine, about the sea which is broken on the riff, about the autumn leaves on the street, about fresh and light air in the evenings and about the soft and tender rustling of the trees in her garden. The apples must be turning red now. It was the time of the year, when the air is still a bit heavy from the summer, when insects are buzzing though the afternoon and when finally the blackberries become soft and sweet. But then she tried again to find a way between the pine trees. She had to open her eyes and look at all the darkness around her and she was afraid that she would have to stay in that forest all the time, with the monsters whom she could only resist by thinking about happy things. But what if the happy things were only a dream? What if the happy things were only a product of her imagination? What if they didn’t exist? What if this forest was real, what if the monsters were real. She felt heat arising in her and tears coming to her eyes. She was so lost. Nobody was there whom she could ask. Nobody ever who would spend her comfort and who would show her the direction out of the forest. Did she want something impossible? Why did it take so long? How long were she still able to keep the happy thoughts, if there were no sources of new happy thoughts?
She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She decided that it would be light and sunny when she opened her eyes and that the monsters were gone. She opened her eyes and a silent scream left her mouth. Nothing had changed. Ok, she thought and tried again. She closed her eyes and with all her strength and all the power she had she was trying to remember the bees and the sun and the trees and the autumn and the water and the wind and the freedom. After she opened her eyes again she saw that the forest was still there. The trees had remained dark, the air was cold and the monsters were whispering that they were soon going to get her. So she finally decided to sit down. She could not walk anymore. Her feet were bleeding and she felt thirsty. She wanted to wait. Someone should find her. She had no strength left. She remembered that once she had a sister. She remembered that once she had friends. She had tried so many people to get out of the forest, but she had forgotten to draw a map. She didn’t want to leave the forest before she had not saved all of the ones about whom she cared. Now they were gone. She didn’t know whether they returned to the forest or whether they were outside. She hoped that they were leading a happy life that maybe they were waiting for her.
So she sat down and closed her eyes once more, she put her hands on her ears, so that she could not listen to the monsters anymore. She was waiting for something to happen. While she was waiting there and dreaming about fruits and summer and life, she fell asleep and since she knew that there was only darkness around her. For once she thought she would hear the voice of someone. She thought that there was someone who finally came back to safe her. She only wished that someone could scare away the thoughts about monsters and dark forests. She remembered them being there for too long and she could not remember that there was ever anything else than forest and trees and darkness and monsters. She hoped that he noticed that although she kept saving those around her she couldn’t safe herself. She hoped someone would notice and change something for her. She had magic powers when she wanted to make someone else happy, when she helped her friends to resist the dark voices. She had magic powers when she showed them their way out of the forest. But now she was tired and none was around her. So she only wanted to sleep and not to listen to the monsters anymore. She sighed. There was no one or if he had only seen her for too short and she had turned so dirty after this long walk and so tired. Probably he thought he couldn’t help her and left. Probably he couldn’t recognize who she was. She was tired and couldn’t listen to him. So he left and she didn’t wake up anymore. What she didn’t know was that she was older than the trees, older than even the earth and the universe. So she didn’t know that if she woke up now the trees would have disappeared since nothing lasts forever. Nothings but her was there forever. But she only wanted to sleep. She was so tired after that long time of fighting against the voices.

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Mary Fallon - Working Hot





E.C.R. knows what Toto is
thinking:
there are no bodies
there are no bodies
I don’t know you
all I know is
how to give you
pleasure
Freda knew
there were no
bodies
she also knew that
nobody knows anything
but their own pleasure
which must then be forgotten as
soon as possible and hopefully
destroyed
Toto to Freda: ah I’ll know
you love me
when I can come between you
and your hands
Freda spits: likewise honey
likewise
Toto: I couldn’t bear to be
the cause of your not being able
to open your legs like this
it’s such a childlike gesture
of trust
a womanlike gesture of demand
I do not take this for granted
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Current Location: somewhere an infinite space between me and me

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once there was passion
and then there was space
and then there was loneliness
and then despair.
but then god came and gave us wine and cigarettes and music.
and moreover as if this wasn't enough,
he gave us ourselves.

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