Oslo // Stein und støv.

Kunstwerk zwischen den Bäumen. Zwei Körper, schwebend, aus glänzendem Metall. Sie umarmen sich so gut es geht, ihre Körper sind von Auswüchsen umwickelt.

Am Rande des freischwebenden Paars sitzen Vögel,

sie spiegeln sich im polierten Material,

es spiegelt sich die Sonne und

es spiegelt sich der Himmel.

Ich spiegle mich, bin aber zu weit weg, um mich selbst erkennen zu können.

Anders im Vigelandpark; der Stein schluckt alle Reflektionen in seiner weißen, sonnenerhitzten Ewigkeit. Mein Schatten berührt die Steinriesinnen, streicht über ihre weichen Gesichter und Bäuche und dann finde ich selbst meinen Platz zwischen ihnen.

Wie ein Junges bewacht, wieder einmal auf die eigene Vergänglichkeit gestoßen, aber sie tut gut, die Vergänglichkeit.

Alles andere wäre nicht zu ertragen.

From the inside, I am blinded

I came across a refuge dressed in turquoise tiles and dripping letters whilst debris grinded about the better times.

Tranquility, I thought, but it was a fallacy for the walls were talking to me.

Outside I found the replica of a forest right in a window’s joint.

And that is the cruelty of it all; time is unforgiving.

Let’s drown together


„You have to see the sunrise over Venice“, I was told. But there were clouds in sky.


But all in all, you don’t need a Palazzo

…and you don’t need the view from the Campanile di San Marco

…or canary birds on balconies,


you don’t need a sweeter sound than laundry drying in the wind

or a more spectacular smell then the remains of the Mercati di Rialto


if you just walk the remote lanes of the city, getting sooner or later inevitably lost.

Basic Patterns of Derangement

roses tilbud
More attachment to a city
in its autumn heart I find not only the twilit cold
one could expect
at the end of October
but layered structures that seem to exist in the strangest places.

Walking Oslo once again I wish for more
eyes to notice
hands to feel
memory to not forget.

Take my rainy mind

bloom in the rain

As I walked through a friend’s garden,
I noticed autumn’s vanguard.

Funny, I thought.

There doesn’t seem to be anything more beautiful –

Rainy Pond

than September Rain on a goldfish pond

than rain coated tomatoes (that won’t get red any more)

than a tiny pool bordered by hibiscus petals

than sturdy blossoms awaiting the end of the year.

Try the pondering mind.

haeundae beach busan

I would spend 3000 ₩ on a pack of rice chips to feed the seagulls
and I would have their screams accompany me down the beach.

stone bridge

I would walk across to have a look on the other side (and maybe I would stay there.)

hills magnolia gyeongju

I would wait for the sun to set just to see the magnolia at nightfall (between burial mounds, it is death and short term life, as always.)

koi pond gyeongju

And I would be a Koi in cold pond water.

Tripping over a frozen day.

Sometimes when you take the road leading south
even in March
there is snow instead of yellow cornelia blossoms.

But you just have to zip up your spring jacket
and wrap your scarf around your neck for a second time.

Maybe tomorrow
there again
will be

Probably it is all in your head.

The sun was out in the midmorning and I hope he found something interesting (probably a bug.)

I hope he will have someone to wrap his arms around when his heart gets heavy.

I hope everybody found their shoes again (or at least came to a mutual exchange)

and that he had a great day after all.

I hope they really liked the sound of flags in March wind

and that their next lives are going to be so much better.

I hope that he had all the right tools to fix what needed mending.

I hope we remember love.
I really do.



Privat Residues

Writings on the Wall

I came across a street, more a lane, let’s say, the corner of a lane,

and there on the wall were writings.

Old ones and new ones.

It made me sad to look at them for no other reason


that nothing stays and once no one will remember.