Impulse

And the music was a slow waltz and a woman was dancing alone to the music on a meadow.

And I visited my hometown by bicycle and was surprised how easy I had covered the distance. And my hometown was full of people - people and buildings from the past. Everything was in black and white and I was there with my love.

And we went along the river and came to a wild place, where someone kept his bees in a lot of beehives. And there was a humming in the air from all the bees. And many birds were there and suddenly a lot of other animals, too. Bears, big brown bears. And all of a sudden the sea was there, too. A seashore and waves were crashing onto the land. And all the bees were rising out of their hives, the earth was black because they were flying just above the ground and they were all flying into the white foam of the waves. And the billions of bees seemed to stop the waves for just one tiny little moment before the water devoured them all.

And I looked to the left and a flood wave was running towards me and my love down the street between the houses. White foam like boiling water. Like a mob coming down the street towards us. And we ran to the toy store and went up the street to save ground. And my love said: "See? It's not that bad at all."

And there was the slow waltz again and the woman was dancing and she might have been one out of Tonje's painting.

And there was a small passage between the houses and I thought my mother might have taken that way in the war. But the passage became a stairway and the handrail was wet and it just let to two doors with empty nameplates and bells. So I turned back.

Liz put the idea of a yurt into my head. Here is my picture of a yurt on the beach. Just to have a nap when the sun is too hot, opening to the sea, letting in a fresh wind.

Presently I'm sitting there on the shore with two people. Probably talking nonsense.

Photo by Detlef.

One day he suddenly fell silent as the mist started to fall.

Communication became an obligation and a reflex to satisfy expectations.

The longing to stay connected started to disconnect him from his feelings, his needs, the potential of fun.

A very sudden change in the climate - like an abrupt cool and damp breeze from the mountain changing the whole landscape - inside and outside.

Photo by Sabine Langnau

What are the little birds doing in their eggs? Do they have a chair in there and a table, a lamp to look at picture books or tv? Do they have computers and internet? And what becomes of this tiny world of a room when the egg is destroyed in the act of birth? 

Come on boy, you must do it NOW!"

An angel trying to spread his wings. Flapping helplessly. Creating an enormous amount of noise, of wind and commotion.

Is this a warm-up or a sincere effort?

And suddenly a certain severity entered their relationship like a cold blade. She looked at him with suspicious eyes that had seen it happening before. He didn't like her gaze and refrained to answer. She felt ignored as she knew in advance she would be.

She didn't de-follow him but threw him off her "friends"-list and from then on only saw his avatar popping up in her home-feed - once in a while, a month, a year, an eternity. When he @ed her there was a short response, discouraging further engagement.

A relationship put on "smoldering".

I see a franciscan monk with tonsure and an umbrella putting a finger into his mouth to check from where the wind is coming, while the sleepy, watchful eye of an owl is peeping through the leaves of a big tree - the gaze of a mother or an aunt: full of reproach and love and "I let you play here but don't overdo it".

While on the other side of town someone is trying to cross a painful bridge, crying out loud, not managing: alone - like all of us who fail.

"In 30 years of operating on humans I never found a meridian in there, nor a chakra" said the surgeon.

"And did you find a soul?" - I knew he was a Christian conservative and couldn't resist the home run.

"In 20 years of flying I neither saw God nor one single angel up there" said the pilot.

"Granddad is sitting there on a cloud looking down on me wherever I am. And when I am in trouble he sees it and helps me. That happens very often" said the child.

Photo by Detlef.

Art is not a smiling contest.

Life is not a dude ranch.

A city is no zoo.

Photo by Sabine Langnau.