... With One Exception

Poems. So wonderful ... as long as they were recited by others. By myself? Two words: not good! My genes completely fail when it comes to rhythm and rhyme and pace and intonation, on everything more pretentious than "Max & Moritz" by Wilhelm Busch. No need to explain that my desperate teenager-me never doodled meaningful poems in her notebooks, I preferred psychedelic grafic-designs. *g* When I wrote something then real stories! Well, with one exception! At the age of 20 I did some kind of...

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What Am I Here For?

Do you remember the time when you were a child, how easy it was to say "Once I'm grown up, I want to be a pilot!", "...an astronaut!", "...a veterinary!" - and how real? Fact became possibility. Possibility became dream. And a decade later, when you woke up to a new reality, the dream has just faded away ... including my own. I can't even tell, what exactly I wanted to be when I was a child. And nobody else knows, because nobody is alive I could ask. That's nothing to be sad about, that's live! But...

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