In essence: time, with all its consequences, moving ahead into the wall behind the clock
The following was taken from a letter to a fellow writer, with whom I spoke extensively about the research for my new book Alterity that will touch on events of WWII and the impact of the GDR system on the society of East Germany.
While we have reasonable control over how we perceive ourselves in life, there is little control over how others see us in death.
Sometimes I contemplate burning emotional bridges, collapsing bridges and use the remains to furniture my ego house, dramatic interior design très chic.
One would be certain to never call this a summer night in England but dusk in paradise. A beautiful, poetic concept poem on the colour orange.
I miss you so. It has now been 18 months since we were together. Just you and me, entwined under the trees, in rain or shine. Since we shared kisses that nobody looked at. Since we truly talked freely. I …
As a child I used to sometimes mindlessly wander into a shop, take something I liked off the shelf and walk out again, until an adult would stop me. Without concept of possession, how are you supposed to know what …
The spirits of Edgar Allan Poe rising in an echo, like Marx – frequently Engels – ambling in the slums of Europe but living in edged on the peripherical better parts of towns. One has always been of the opinion …
Once upon a time, on a flight from Mumbai to Dubai, both golden cities in their own ways, marvels of their own times, some long gone, others resurrected. But this is more about what has been left behind, what is …
Just like time, the where is a fundamental pillar of being. Round and round on the circle line. What exists here can exist anywhere. Sitting alfresco in a charity cafe in a not so busy side street of a town …
It’s the kind of sky that makes human’s bulimic – polemic, so the recommended spelling correction. This can’t detract from the wind nearer inland, or the sun by the coast. High on a pole, coming down to near shoulder height …
