Großer Garten

It was a bit surprising to arrive after a one and a half hours drive along back roads, copplestone streets through little towns and past a long lake at the Großer Garten. It was our destination, that wasn’t the surprise. It was parking next to other cars with a Berlin number plate in a seemingly…

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We keep coming back to Ireland

Start to write this instead. Much of my writing is done as a way of avoiding writing. (Anne Enright: My writing day on The Guardian) We keep coming back to Ireland, Jen and I. Staying inside the Bridgehouse we drink tea, eat ginger cookies, try to write stories and read books by Deirdre Madden, Anne…

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summer memories

“An ordinary life was an obscure life, if we can extend the meaning of obscure to mean covered up by dailiness, glorious dailiness, shameful dailiness, dailiness that is difficult to figure out, that is not always clear until a long time afterward. Obscure: not readily noticed, easily understood, or clearly expressed. Which is a pretty…

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Essaouira, maybe tomorrow

Essaouira is easy-going. “Maybe tomorrow”, it’s what the traders, waiters and cameleers say when we stop them with a wave of our hand because we are currently not interested, “maybe tomorrow”, we reply and smile to part with good intentions. Cats wander through the streets. One has four kitties, they are all lying with closed…

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The voices of Marrakech

Wie Marrakesch einfange, eine Stadt, die mehr Fantasie als Realität zu sein scheint, und doch so wahr, dass ich auch als Zweitbesucher noch in den Gassen verloren gehe, die Kamera oft bei den besten Bildern in der Tasche lasse, um den Moment nicht zu stören, um besser zu beobachten, um Wörter gegen Filmrollen zu tauschen.…

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black-and-white winter

SOUTH Der Winterhimmel ist grau. Ich suche nach Farben, nichtsdestotrotz. Manchmal blinzelt die Sonne durch bei -5 Grad. Merke beim Aufziehen des schwarz-weiß-Filmes, dass ich anders gucken muss. Nicht nach Farbflecken, sondern nach Konturen, Schatten, Kontrasten. Mit Schnee ist das Grau heller, sieht von drinnen schön aus: beim Umziehen, Müslimachen, Frühstücken. Auf der Fahrt entlang…

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Islay

We spent four nights on a Scottish island called Islay. From the ferry going there, we also saw Jura where George Orwell wrote 1984.  Opposite, the treeless and roadless hills of Islay appeared. We drove to the flat side of the island which is sparsely spotted with white houses, white sheep and the white walls…

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What a summer

This summer was all about settling into our new home, having as many meals outside on the balcony as possible, drinking coffee poured over ice cubes in form of fishes, enjoying the natural air-condition of a Berliner Altbau, picking tomatoes and herbs from the balcony, jumping into the nearby lake after work, reading-reading-reading, going camping…

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