Addiction

Is it possible to get really addicted to the www? Or even to the search through the blogs of the globalized world to find something that might be similar to yours. Could it be even more compulsive than television? (…)

 

Silence – Stille

Die Stille befällt einen, wenn man nicht daran glaubt, dass sie anwesend ist, aber sie ist da, jetzt und hier. Man kann sie nicht mehr loswerden. Sie wächst in einem wie das Kind im Mutterleib. Sie bleibt da, bis man sie hinaus gestoßen hat. Doch im Gegensatz zu dem Kind, welches nach rund neun Monaten den Ausgang findet, bleibt sie manchmal für länger. Wie lange noch? Immer? Man weiß es nicht. Ist es die Ratlosigkeit, die dieser Stille Nahrung gibt oder ist es die Zeit, in der man lebt. Darf man sich fragen, weswegen man lebt. Sollte man nicht mit dem, was man hat – dem Leben – zufrieden sein? (…)

 

Nothing to say … nothing left

Since two weeks I’ve finished my exams and now I’m off all my study-duties and I feel a kind of good but at the same time I can sense something is wrong with me. It’s not due to the fact that I’ve finished, it is more or less the perspective of being free. But free for what? Am I free for my own choice? Do I have the opportunity to live like I want now? Or do I have to follow the way of so many other people that had to make this decision before? One thing is for real:  I’ve decided to wait another year for whatever will come. I’m not sure what will reach me but I will hopefully find out what I actually want for my life. It’s a weird feeling not to know exactly what one would like to do with his or her life. Since I’ve been 9 or 10 I have known what I wanted to achieve in my life and for sure all my dreams and aims changed with the surroundings and were reviewed. But now everything seems to be so useless. Nothing is left to do. Only the bearable thing called the JOB is helping to survive but should that be life until its final days? Is there nothing more than this? Is there anything one can do without feeling guilty for some reason? I mean are there ideas of life without living the life that supposed to be ours? (…)

 

The scent of yesterdays

You are walking along the sidewalk, thinking about the beauty of the sun and about the power that can be evoked by the smallest sunlight, inhaling the odor of a passing pedestrian. Until now you did not realize how profound and captivating smell can be. (…)

He is around thirty-five but …

… looks like fifty. Long, black, filthy hair is falling into his thin face covering it.  Wrinkles are around his eyes and on his small but long nose he wears old round glasses. Through his light brown worn out “Caterpillar” shoes you can see the tips of his feet and from time to time he takes out of his black “ForYou” schoolbag brown-yellowish papers. With this ongoing extraction he starts to occupy three seats of the tram as well as the ground which is underneath him.  (…)

2. December 2007 – First Advent

To all who don’t know what an Advent is: Here in Germany we celebrate 4 weeks before Christmas each sunday the rest of the weeks until Santa Claus comes.  So this year it starts tomorrow. We will have the first Advent and the next sunday will be the second and so on. Usually these sundays are reserved for the family but since my sister and me live by our own and  the stress of every days life we will have less time to meet this year’s sundays. But I think it is okay. Sometimes it happens that the 24th and the 4th Advent fall together and then we celebrate twice a day. (…)

First snow in Berlin – Weißensee

Yesterday fell the first snow down on the roof tops and streets of the German capital city Berlin. After a break it snowed through the night and this morning the snow flakes were big. Now, it is half past ten and due to the warmth the flakes change to rain drops. I was fascinated. Yesterday, I didn’t watch the movie anymore instead I looked out my window in the sky. I saw the roof tops across the street and saw how they changed white. The velocity of the wind made the flakes pushed fast to the ground. There they disappear in the black tar which is still too hot. (…)

I feel like writing…

I feel like writing but every time I begin to think nothing will come out. I would like to write about the stuff that happened this week but nothing is there that can be expressed adequate. (…)