Letters from Somewhere No.034
This is a temporary adventure. It always was. That was clear from the beginning. But how long it would take to come to an end and where exactly this end was and still is, stays unclear. Despite all…
Letters from Somewhere No.033
In the end, everything always happens very quickly. The day before an onward journey is a day of packing and preparing, there's no time for more. The day before we were on the pink granite coast, on…
Letters from Somewhere No.032
This journey is about experience and reflection. I have come here with my many stories. But how do these stories reflect what I am experiencing while I am here? Not only is my mind opening to…
Letters from Somewhere No.031
The wind is blowing from the sea, sometimes gale force, our thin jackets are flapping and making loud noises. It's cold, which I hadn't realized before. Because when we set off, it was pleasantly…
Letters from Somewhere No.030
On the first day, I immediately noticed all the little flaws, such as the floor with the gaps in the parquet or the thin doors without a seal on the floor and with a gap that was far too big. Or the…
Letters from Somewhere No.029
“There is a space between stimulus and response. In this space lies our power to choose our reaction. In our reaction lies our development and our freedom." Viktor Frankl When we arrive at a new…
Letters from Somewhere No.028
I settle into speechlessness, a blanket with holes under which there is never enough warmth. The warmth of familiarity remains outside. It remains an unknown warmth. And since there is little inside,…
Letters from Somewhere No.027
When something changes from new to familiar, how this changes the way we see things. There is an expansion of the self. Then the lingering becomes the new. I often think about what would happen if I…
Letters from Somewhere No.026
It rains a lot. A lot. How much gray can I take? The sun hasn't shown itself once all week. The gray is joined by a fine drizzle, on and off. The wind whips it across the fields from the west. Not…
Letters from Somewhere No.025
Four weeks have passed. We are in a new place, in a new region, in new accommodation. It starts all over again. Four weeks is not a long time, but it is enough to get a feel for the rhythm of a…