When archaeologists started for the first time to systematically uncover the ancient city of Pompeii in the 18th century, they were met with a riddle. They found strange cavities within the thick layers of pumice and ash that had preserved the city for centuries, littered with bones. It did not take long to figure out […]

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when I was feeling homesick, on a beach at dusk, with the sound of waves lapping up to the shore, half a world away from the life I used to know, in a place that was so similar yet so different, with unfamiliar faces around me and humid air that I was not used to […]

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jedem anfang


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 […]

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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 […]

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thank you for the birds

Short Stories

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 […]

April 27, 2020

Grenzübertretung (oder: eben nicht)

Short Stories

Heute gibt’s zwei Blog-Beiträge, denn dieser zählt nicht wirklich, da er bereits anderweitig publiziert wurde. Trotzdem, hier ist mein Beitrag für den Schreibwettbewerb “Text des Monats” des Literaturhauses Zürich zum Thema “Schneefallgrenze steigend”: Es ist mitten in der Nacht und ich rüttle meine Kinder wach, schnell, schnell, wir müssen los, es ist Zeit, wohin denn, […]

March 27, 2020

desolation row

Short Stories

Ohne grosses Aufhebens war sie manchmal da und manchmal nicht. Ich machte mir nicht viel daraus, viele Menschen sind manchmal da und manchmal nicht, ein paar Menschen sind wohl gar nie richtig da, wenn ich mir das recht überlege. Aber sie war manchmal da. Dann ging sie auf ihren Stelzenbeinen vorbei an uns allen und […]

February 27, 2020



The story of the original sin is told in the third chapter of the Genesis. It is said that the snake told Adam’s wife, who does not have a name in the version that I read, to taste the apple from the forbidden tree because then her eyes would open, truly, and she would know […]

January 27, 2020



Another year is over and things are standing still by moving quicker than I know to walk. It’s been the year of             home-coming, re-settling job-starting, overtime-making protest-going, speech-writing, signatures-collecting             pizzas in piazze in Verona thesis-working, myself-presenting, on a copper platter of thistles piercing-forsaking, beatles-forgetting-and-remembering like I do almost every year missed chances and […]

December 27, 2019

the envelope

Short Stories

The house was empty, as it had been for years. A thin shingle of light came unbidden through a crack in the blinds into the otherwise dark room. It was a sombre darkness, full of half-shadows and dense with words never spoken, bottled up in this kitchen for years. The light ate its way across […]

November 27, 2019



Did you know that the French revolutionaries introduced a new calendar after the French Revolution? The day they abrogated the monarchy was pronounced as the first day of “An I de la République”. Every month lasted for 30 days, divided into three decades of ten days. The twelve months were named after the seasonal occurrences […]

October 27, 2019

five books I read this summer

Book Reviews

Something that struck me about myself the other day was this: With music, I mostly listen to men’s voices. With books, I mostly listen to the voices of women. This summer I have spent a considerable amount of time reading some excellent female writers: How to Be Both by Ali Smith (4.5/5) This is a […]

September 27, 2019

park closes at dusk

Short Stories

The sheer magnitude of a summer in New York City threatened to swallow me whole in late August of ’98. Instead of going out for eggs on toast on Saturday mornings and hanging around Central Park late Friday evenings and generally having a damn good time of it – instead of all those things I’d […]

August 27, 2019

runaway girls


runaway girls instead of runway girls they fled from a world of constraint and shame with nothing to look forward to but everything after they’d secretly unchecked the boxes on their father’s app enabling their own freedom so that they could be allowed (technically) to break free, to run away, to any country which was […]

July 27, 2019



Was ist es an Worten, das uns bindet? Ein Mensch könnte tausend verschiedene Dinge tun an einem Tag; abgesehen von den überlebensnotwendigen Beschäftigungen wie essen und atmen kann er auch Dinge rein aus Spass tun, er kann fernsehen, oder sich mit seinem Sternzeichen beschäftigen, oder stricken, oder eben auch: Lesen. Wieso tun wir das? Was […]

June 27, 2019

the fox

Short Stories

There is a fox, he’s sly and snouty, he wanders the woods every night around two. With all that he knows and all that he is, he goes along the muddy paths, moonlit silence looming over him, listening out for a neigh or a meow or a silent woof or any other animal’s sound. He […]

May 27, 2019

empöret euch


Naiv zu sein ist das Privileg der Jugend, sagt ihr, und belächelt uns, werdet zuweilen wütend, weil Greta euch ein schlechtes Gewissen einreden möchte. Wenn naiv zu sein das Privileg der Jugend ist, dann ist eure „Nach-mir-die-Sintflut“-Haltung das Privileg der Alten. Stell dir vor, wütend zu sein, weil junge Leute sich plötzlich doch einmal für […]

April 27, 2019

the parcel

Short Stories

Her body was a golden string, hanging upon the last thread. Eyes sunken and sallow, nothing of the old glory left. Black shadows hid in the ruins of her face where there used to be rosy cheeks and dust and debris settled on her head as if she was a statue of herself, a copy […]

March 27, 2019