Psychedelic Sandwich

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PS: No post processing whatsoever, just taken with an exposure of about 20 seconds.

Superficially unhappy

Can you do that for me please? - Ok.

Aren't you happy for me? - Of course I am.

How are you? - I'm good.


What are you doing for me? No, I'm not happy, I'm dead-jealous. And I'm bad, I'm unhappy, I'm crappy, life sucks, for no reason. Leave me alone.

Hottest day or Woodstock or Know-it-all

Warm, I'm warm
Bear me, I couldn't
Folk music following me
What does it want?

LSD for dinner, crack for dessert
Mediocre performance
Violent dreams keep my eyes open
Go away.

Dust turning to mud
Jump, sing
No energy left
Cheers to imperfection!

Talismans

K. showed me his new picture and my attention was drawn to something. "What's that around your neck?", I asked. "My mum sent it and asked me to wear it. It's some religious symbol, I don't know exactly." "You wear it just like that without knowing what it means?" "Well, it means a lot to her and I don't mind, so.."

A. was wearing a silver ring I liked. "Show me please.". He took it off and handed it to me. Спаси и сохрани (rescue and save) was engraved on it. I looked at him questioningly when I returned the ring. "I got it in church, to be reminded that god is watching over me."

S. doesn't take a step without a few Ganeshas at her side. Don't take me too literal - one is on a ribbon around her neck, another one in a small tin, watching over the chewing gum ;-). No offense please, that's a joke I cracked when she offered me gum and I saw the little figurine in there. She laughed.

A talisman, a lucky charm, a symbol whatsoever - I want that. A charm bracelet is not the same nor is the little silver Sardinia I brought back to remember that beautiful place. It has to be something someone gave to you, that bears their good wishes for you, that is supposed to protect you and that you must never take off. Probably that is all superstition but I like the idea of carrying a piece of someone (that sounds gory but you know what I mean), or a piece of their mind if you will.

Of course it has to be someone special who gives it to you, like a family member, a close friend, your love. Maybe I am weird (definitely I am but maybe this is weird.. gee, I'm so Lorelai..) but what I would like best is something that the other person wore before (remember, we're still talking about a charm, not clothes or something like that!), which would make it even more part of them and their history - and now part of mine...

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PS: I apologise for the excessive use of hyperlinks lately but since I figured out how that works, it is my favourite toy ;-)

Little Differences

Germany is not a particularly big country (ok, it's not Luxemburg size either), so you would expect the people with their one language, one tradition, one culture to be more or less the same. They are not.

And I am not only talking about the still obvious differences between East and West. Yes, they are there, definitely still in my generation though I was 13 when the Wall came down. Different school and kindergarten memories, different holiday locations, different childhood heroes (Krtek and Nu Pagadi for me, can't stand Augsburger Puppenkiste), second anthem in our life - a fact that confuses me as much as our Michael Ballack (one day younger than me exactly) and Bernd Schneider (just pay attention at the beginning of the next Germany - whoever game).

But what I am actually getting at is the differences between two regions of the same "side", barely 250 km away from one another - Hessen (Frankfurt area) and Nordrhein-Westfalen (greater Düsseldorf). I have been living in the former for almost five years now and believe it or not, didn't make a single friend among the locals. And it's not that I am exceptionally unsocial, S., my Hindi classmate from Hamburg and first friend in this hostile city has the same problem. And so does C., a fellow Eastern girl.

Then I met M. (many of you will know her, too), who lives in the latter area, and her friends. They are different from me and from my "usual crowd". Normal people, sometimes crude, unpretentious but warm, affectionate and sincere. It didn't take me long to like them nor them to like me. You might interject that I met them through M. only, that it would be another thing to meet them by myself. I don't think so, they are just what they are, know them or don't, meet them this way or another. Is it the climate? The dialect? The industrial area? Either way, the differences are there.

Midsummer Nostalgia

I drove back from D. last night after having spent a long weekend there, mostly in my friend's garden, doing a fulfilling lot of nothing.

And there it was again, that stretch inside me, that pulling on my soul that comes with the smell of flowers in a summer night, with their sight against the dark sky, that doesn't say what it wants nor where it wants me. All it says is: not here. And not now.

The summer night's got so much potential, its scent caressing my skin like dark blue velvet. I want to follow it, want it so badly. I get lost. A light breeze tugging on my mind, pulling my thoughts away to the corner of memories. Sweet.

I brush it off, together with those tears.

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Soundtrack to the post

Is money the base?

"Wir leben in einer Welt, in der Geld die Basis ist" - so said one of the presidents of the DBU (German Buddhist Union) when confronted with the fact that the Dalai Lama's visit to Frankfurt was commercialised to no end, entry prices up to 200 € including.

It seems strange and scary to me if even a committed buddhist sees money as the base of the world. What happened to the ideals? Are we all material and materialistic? Do we need money to prove our own value? Does it mean I am less intelligent if I make less money than others?
"They say money is the root of all evil. But what is the root of money?"

Lots of questions, few answers. Or are there?