In essence: time, with all its consequences, moving ahead into the wall behind the clock
Schizophrenia has a distinctive smell of metalic acrylic colours. It is sharp and penetrates everything; cotton, fur, skin. It smells like the world ending, like two bald soldiers marching a long narrow road through nettle-covered fields – towards me. The …
Monday morning.There is snow in Germany, and it looks like faded whites through the curtains in my bedroom.By the end of this week I am a quarter of a century old.The prospect of living another half a century seems naturally …
Look what I found here on my screen: an ad of a German coffee maker.In my eyes it perfectly describes online advertisement rather well: undefined stuff, yet you can order it The days when I am off during the week …
I came back from China yesterday morning, and although the trip didn’t seem to fit in at all into my life, it was brilliant. And if I had some energy left last night I would have told my mother while showing …
The weather has turned for a warmer direction once again. Lying by the beach today, reading ”Drawing on the right side of the brain”, occasionally watching the clouds pass.I felt watched by the rusty ship resting too close to the …
The first night in my own bed was just as usual. Maximum eight hours sleep and up from 5 in the morning I was only in some meditative state. Well, my trip. It can be well described with one lovely …
But the newspaper always has some surprises…there is a new website of old photographs of the UK…from above…this picture is basically where I live now…just beautiful.
Dearest Taylor He was not your father and never will be. He was only someone, the first one, who has betrayed me terribly. The pain is immense and only seeing your face in my visions can soothe it a little. …
When the truth is outspoken it sometimes hurts more than knowing it already quietly for long. In my head and heart he has died long ago now but he ceased to exist today. Not worth any further tear for what …
All still I sit in the garden of England, on a white wooden bench under sheltering branches of a willow exactly four times older than my grandfather on his deathbed. Rain never left me untouched, neither the diary on my …