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,…
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It is now day 14 of self-isolation. So far, I’ve taken up yoga, had lots of video coffee breaks, finally took the time to stick all my photographs into albums, took walks, tried to write (which did not work as well as I hoped it would), tried to keep up with uni things, went to…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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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…
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