Letters from Somewhere No.044
The sound of water. Birdsong. Chirping crickets. Fresh air that still has the scent of rain in it. Trees. Trees everywhere. A dense forest and me in the middle of it. A forest without a path, but…
Letters from Somewhere No.043
And then the unexpected happens. I like this city. It's strange how quickly my opinion changes. Maybe it is the sun, which shows everything in a different light. Maybe it is the exercise in the fresh…
Letters from Somewhere No.042
„... you become aware of what didn't happen in your childhood, what you don't remember. Because what didn't happen has as much or more power over who you have become as an adult than any of those…
Letters from Somewhere No.041
This city is overwhelming. But only until you accept it for what it is. But to get there, it's not enough to keep telling yourself that. It is the words of another person that first point me in this…
Letters from Somewhere No.040
Before the door opens and the storm begins, it is quiet for a brief moment. It is the kind of silence that I have only experienced between the dunes on the northern French coast. A complete and pure…
Letters from Somewhere No.039
Mountains of sand in a landscape where there are no mountains. They bear the colors of the earth. Golden brown. Dark brown. Black. Gray. Red. One next to the other, as far as the eye can see. It…
Letters from Somewhere No.038
I don't work where I sleep. I go to an office in town where I've rented a space. I'm the only one who does that there. Everyone else belongs to the company that rents out the spaces. There aren't…
Letters from Somewhere No.037
Now that time is coming to an end and we are leaving Brittany after 5 months, I have to come to terms with the fact that not everything went smoothly and that I can't set off with stories filled with…
Letters from Somewhere No.036
The anticipation is great. The weather is very good. The sun is shining and it's finally getting a bit warm. We drive to the Mont Saint-Michel . Expectations are high, perhaps even too high. But we…
Letters from Somewhere No.035
Three clocks. And all of them have stopped at a different time. In the accommodation, one hangs in the kitchen, with a thick, ornate frame made of dark wood. It shows the time at 9:43. If you look…