Leichtes Blau und Sturmhimmel, Regen am Abend und Sonnenschein am nächsten Morgen. Ein verschlafenes Dorf aus Stein, welches einst einen weltberühmten Dichter beherbergt hat, aus dessen Werk man die Gässchen fast schon erahnen konnte, bevor man sie sieht. Bleierne Mittsommerhitze, Altweibersommer auf den schmiedeeisernen Balkonen, Hundegebell in der Gasse. Hesse muss es hier gleichermassen geliebt…
Read more
anxious to please and breathless from the spinning of her world she stands there, crackling with the anger of a thousand licking flames desperate for approval, or anger, or both, any emotional reaction would do – for how could anyone know how it felt, truly, to be her, gravel in her mouth and water in…
Read more
The cottage was lying still and dark. Nothing stirred, aside from the moonbeam sweeping over my blanket infinitesimally slow, and the hands of the alarm clock on the strange bedside table. They showed 2:16 but I couldn’t have known, because I was asleep. But while I slept, something funny happened: I grew 10 feet tall…
Read more
Dieser Text wurde bereits auf der Seite des Aargauer Literaturhauses publiziert, er ist entstanden während derTextstatt 2020. Natürlich habe ich sie nicht mehr gefunden. Solche Dinge passieren nur in Büchern, und nicht mal da immer. Herumgeirrt bin ich, durch die Altstadt, vorbei an den Läden und dem Park, habe in die Gesichter der Menschen geschaut,…
Read more
Worte fliehen leise,sanft,aus deinen Augen, deinem Mund,sie streben hoch und immer höherin die Dämmerung Richtung Mond draussen sieht es müde aus,die Bäume rauschen ohne Eiferich sitz’ in meinem Schneckenhausund in mir drin wird’s leiser jetzt ist es Herbst, bald kommt der Winterwärmer wird’s wohl lang nicht mehrwas davor ist, das weiss ich schon, nur: was…
Read more
Another year is over andthings are rushing past me while I’m standing still in the middle of it all –it’s been the year of everything and nothing at the same timeworry, sadness, frustration, a bit of too much for so many, a shared affliction that goes through cells and borders it’s been a year lost,a…
Read more
tap-tap he cries and listens to your soul at night tok-tok he sings and grins into your heart at nightchop-chop he flings and murders your light dreams at nighthear-hear he roars and hits your fucking shins at night “you say you made a ghost of me, maybe that is true; you seem to have forgotten,…
Read more
The quickly darkening city spread out before her like a unidimensional platform, only punctuated by the lit windows of the tall office blocks, the street lamps and the light garlands of station inns and all the other light seeping out of every imaginable corner onto the dark plain. Light was what moulded the scene, what…
Read more
I own a small photograph of my grandmother, it’s almost quadratic and on the sides you can see dark strips with rectangular holes from the film roll. It’s a black-and-white photograph and my grandmother looks beautiful, standing slightly turned away from the camera, her gaze to the far right, facing something or someone I’ll never…
Read more
The house looked almost as if it were unreal, perched atop the small hill, rising old and mighty against a blue and cold December sky. It was early morning and not many people were about, and those who were did not seem to mind the house atop the hill so very much. After all, it…
Read more
The force of Joan Didion’s writing astounds me. I think her secret lies in only telling what she knows, and telling it true, out of the corner of her eyes – “remember what it was to be me: that is always the point” – she never shies of laying bare her own feelings, her own…
Read more
The fog was weighing down heavily on the little town of Ypsilanti. The people of Ypsilanti had been taught, by now, not to linger on the streets after dark and to do their business in daylight whenever possible. They knew that when dusk swept across the streets to rinse out the last rays of sunshine…
Read more
The ancient Egyptians believed that, after death, their pharaohs had to go on a journey of rebirth through the netherworld, through the twelve hours of the night, just like the sun god Ra did before them. The story of the twelve hours of the night is written in the Amduat, a funerary text, which was…
Read more
The day started with 120 birds falling from the sky. It looked like a stupendously horrid miracle; 120 birds flying one moment and dropping from the heavens like stone the next. The people driving on the road beneath stopped their cars by the curb and got out to come to the rescue, they ran onto…
Read more