bar und donau

When you show home-home (the place you grew up, the place where your parents live) to somebody else, you suddenly look up the facades and the steep streets, you count the hills and the butcher’s shops, you start telling stories about morning dew in the park and lemon ice cream in winter, you try to tell your city and show all the years you have spent here –

all the while you are observing the visitor looking up facades and steep streets, hills and shops, seeing new things you have not noticed all those years.

Wenn man daheim-daheim (wo man aufgewachsen ist, wo die Eltern leben) jemand anderem zeigt, guckt man sich die Häuserfassaden und steilen Straßen an, zählt  Hügel und Metzgereien, fängt an, Geschichten über Morgennebelfäden im Park und Zitroneneis im Winter zu erzählen, versucht, die ganze Stadt zu erzählen und all die Jahre zu zeigen, die man hier verbracht hat –

während man den Besucher beobachtet, wie er Häuserfassaden, Straßen, Hügel und Läden erfasst, wie er Neues sieht, was man selbst in all den Jahren nicht gesehen hat.


The white, green, black forest






Between the years, I spent some time at home. My parents live on the border of the black forest, and now that I’ve been living away for a while, I really enjoy being in this forest again. How could I not see its beauty when I was younger?

Also, I continued reading “Home space” by O. F. Bollnow again, a book about all my favourite topics: home, space, distance, travel. We found this book a couple of years ago in Sydney and only later we discovered that the original was actually written in German and the author was a professor at my university in Tübingen. Things had come full circle once again.

“Homesickness and longing for distance are so close to each other that one must ask oneself if the two things are not basically the same.” (O. F. Bollnow: Human space)