...i have a dream...

That it would be for a moment silent enough to hear oneanother breath. That breath would be used to speak of what the heart is filled with. To become a river – no gap possible. If you forget to breath, you no longer are. Thankfully breathing depends not only upon ones own existence, otherwise it would be problematic. Someone might forget to breathe and then what? In reality, therefore you do not breathe alone, because you're needed. The breathing is a constant of yours and our existence. Essential and fundamental. You can not live without breathing. Hence, breathing and life are the same. Breathing is the mechanism of life and life is connected to breathing: Your life is our breath.

It is also a bridge between you and the universe, as the body is nothing other than the universe which has come to you, that which is closest to you.

To watch the moon is not very difficult. Even reaching the moon is not very difficult, it is roughly a trip. Finding the connection between your breath and the present moment, means everything will be fine.

Yet, it is impossible to return to the time before breath. It is impossible to repeat when it is finished. Seek to make it well.

...s – like...

ssshhhh, I will tell you a secret.

I can not die, without being with the world, and before all others, with you my dear Hucnhumor, reconciled with. Let me tell you about the secret, which is part of my letter to Kleist, let me make you feel, really feel what it has done to me: the truth is that it was of much help, here on earth. And then farewell; I may be given by the sky only half of the unspeakable joy and pleasure I received from you – this is the warmest and heartfelt memory that I know to raise tonight:



Bei noch dunkler Luft
wenn des Taus Tröstung
zur Erde niederquellt
unsichtbar, ungehört
gedenk, gedenk du, heißes Herz
wie du durstest
nach Liebe.

Within still darken’d air
when the dew solace
swells to earth
unseen, unheard
think, think you, me heart
as you thirst
for love.

ssshhhh, I’ll tell you a secret. I found us something timeless – it is in your left hand, come, dare and make it complete.

...freefall friday...

Falling back into a time, when taste was honest. Remember senses application very well, especially when it comes to malt sweets and taste they left behind, while forming with the tongue round shapes - until today, trying to find ‘round words’, staying far from shapes that could bring harm.

When touch was still alive and very much felt, while fingers wonder across old paper, trying to feel the ink used back then. Dreaming of following written letters, falling into the ‘hole’ made by the pressure of a full stop’s mark.

When sight was promissing and most things seen were good, real and of joy. Spending much more time with someone close, hours of determination, instead of minutes with a multi-tasking by-product.

When sound was good and able to be heard, like the edge of a fountain pen carving letters into paper. Silent, like falling snow, yet able to be heard by an honest heart. Demanding time to overcome the resistence of the material, just like life, slow and many times silent, but very much worth to leave a trace.

When smell was real. Have to admit that I smell books and paper. There is a distinct fragrance connected with paper and ink, of very much difference, when it comes to old and new or whether one has used ink or a pencil to write; able to pull me down, deep into thoughts and emotions.

When thoughts were pure and able to be heard, far from nowadays noise, which makes it many times impossible to hear oneself, let alone someone else. Thinking about your words, many times close to be mine, turns them into ‘physical beings’, able to hold them in my hands, bringing them close to my heart.

While walking across a flea market in Hamburg, it was a small koffer that caught me attention. Upon asking about the content, I was told it to be of stamps, however one had to buy the whole thing without being allowed to take a look inside. After arriving home, armed with a hot cup of tea it was time to open up the mistery.

There were about twenty postcards inside, most of them used ones, and a couple of stamps alone. The dates of both, the postcards and stamps are ranging between 1880 and1990 ! Sometimes able to be read, other times providing quiet a challenge – but always a joy to eye and mind, allowing to dive deep into history, trying to find out what time and life was like, while they were written respectively used.

I’d like to share with you some of the interesting ones, trying to find at least one during the month they were received – and who knows, it might be you, to receive a card soon...

...5.7.5 on a wednesday...

Everying fleeting is just a comparison.

...damals...

als es noch für ‘nen Groschen Süßes gab.

back, when one could get sweets for a penny.

...so wie früher...

I have a dream, time to be – like before.

Six years old...I felt fear, real fear, for the first time in my life. But I remember as well it being like a kind of adventure. Assume that it took me someplace in mind as well, that I hadn't experienced before. To some frontier, an edge maybe, of everything...possible.
This fear was almost like an invitation. A challenge forward to something of what I knew nothing about. Maybe that's were my philosophy of life started.

The Great Depression begun 1929 with the stock market crash and was a few years at its worst. At that time F. D. Roosevelt took office over in the U.S.A. In his inaugural address he said, that he would and could not ignore such realities and that he would not preach a naive optimism. But he also said that the country has faced worse things in the past. What has brought people out of such moments was a spirit and determination to resolve.

More than enough times when I found out that fear creates its own self-fulfilling dynamic, having the tendency to translate confidence into inaction that lowers trust levels further, on and on.
'So, first of all', FDR told his audience, ‘let me assert my firm belief that the only thing we have to fear is fear itself.'

I have a dream, time to be – like before.
Standing in the kitchen, washing dishes and drying them, together, just like it was, when time was young. Where people, while walking upon a way, just wide enough for two, would give way already ten yards before, for the one coming towards, to pass by with a greeting word.

Happy Birthday – this is for you:

There - I need to return and trust
me and my step from now on
open to the sky, into the blue.

Carry me, my step where
everything shines new and new
life greets in space and time.

My eye - tremendously
looked at me. Infinity!
dance now a thousand days.

Hail, who creates a new day
Free - be your art
Happiness - your science.

I woke up – and fear no more.
I have a dream.

...’s’ like...

a single syllable. MU – NOTHING

...foreign still...

... of the ability to hide behind my wings, having fingers still, that keep me to the ground, of which one to hold, can be enough to keep me moving on,

throughout day and night, towards light, that will leave behind a path, reaching out

keeping me up and right, far away from a silent single hand.

Lemons did ripe, from green into yellow bright, oranges, sweet in taste, delight. Toys around, salamander on the wall, and of course the butterfly, for kisses, on the right.

Greeting branch, bright in green, light in life; unable to be kept behind, dark of night and the minds might.

Yet. Still foreign. Still too much to bare, passing by, midday’s deep dreams.

What I do want of all this: _ _ .

...5.7.5 on a wednesday...

Freedom desire
Once yours, it remains to be
Heart, mind and soul felt

Further longing, felt here.

...i have a dream...

...to be able to feel pride and alight within the skin i am in, regardless of income, age and job; no matter what’s the past, present or future heading to, as it is all the same uniform we are wearing, it is all the same skin we are in.

...to awake upon a magic carpet ride, taking me far and beyond a thousand days, that seem dark as one single night, into the moring of an everlasting sun, at peace, as it is all the same skin we are in.

...to wear myself as if it were you, to be closed in, without beginning or end, safe, as it is my skin you are in.