...and suddenly I realise it's Christmas Eve, and it's The Day Before. Years have passed and you don't expect anything special for a long time, and at least in Lower Saxony there is no snow, at all. But the magic of the childhood is still there…

I write letters, but I don't send them and they go unanswered. I take them out and rewrite them, picking up the words and clarifying the meanings. I wait in hope that a reply will come someday. I continue the conversation when it's long over…

Lebenslinie (Life Line) Life, if you look back at your own one, or at the stories of others, often seems to be presented as an ornate line. This line is trying to branch out, but since a person is indivisible, that lifeline is always one, but…

Someday there will come a time when there will be no Monday. And there will be no need to remember about work or to follow the schedules. For some, it is temporary, for someone forever. For Anton 06.06.2021 Robert Frost - On Looking Up…

Broken Crystal Blues --- Once I was a crystal, and they admired my facets and the sun's rays through me, twisting me in their hands this way and that. Now splintered, they think I'm just a bunch of broken glass. Although look - it's me, the…

Whistling a tune, I walk up to the house and meet a cat on the doorstep. We are going to have supper, and at this time a blizzard begins. April. 05.04.2021, live recording.

Somewhere there is snow, somewhere there is sand and heat, or the sea, cold in the north, warm in the southern lands. Nature shimmers with shades, and the sounds accompanying it, too. Everyone needs a holi-day, to stop for a moment (or longer…

Free wind walked in the pampas, now it’s just a draft in the aisle. Will there be a new life? ~ Thanks Bethan for the idea.

Goldfishes tell fairy tales to each other, slowly moving their tails and fins as if moving the air with their Chinese fans. They do not mind that we listen to these stories too. After all, everything is in there: simple joys, and emotional experiences…

I take the sun in handfuls, throw its light down, painting puddles. Cats immediately appear in sunny puddles and become sunny like everything around. Happiness exists as long as we believe in it. Even if we do not, actually. "Twinkle, twinkle…

This is not the same ponderous endless time being that was mentioned by someone, somewhere. But rather I touch the water lightly and expecting the circles to disappear. And again.

As you age, as you improve your speaking skills and gain experience, you try to speak to others more accurately and concisely. And immediately you are faced with the problem that you have nothing to say, or with the fact that most of what is said…

The Freedom Of The Moon --- Poem by Robert Frost I've tried the new moon tilted in the air Above a hazy tree-and-farmhouse cluster As you might try a jewel in your hair. I've tried it fine with little breadth of luster, Alone, or in one…

Midday field. I watch the lark, which serenely rises in circles up to dissolve there, forever. He sees no danger around. Why [should] I care? --- I recall that in childhood we all watch adventure films (or performances), and here the children…

Beauty and artistic taste is clear to everyone and eternal, although it does not save the world. --- A Late Walk Robert Frost When I go up through the mowing field, The headless aftermath, Smooth-laid like thatch with the heavy dew…

We dance round in a ring and suppose, But the Secret sits in the middle and knows. --- Robert Frost

There is almost no snow this year, it appears for some time from nowhere and immediately disappears. I look at this all out the window, and found myself looking more and more often back at the past experience. Is this a sign of age? Hmm, I certainly…

Early weekend morning. Sleep longer. Dreams mix with reality, everything is filled with bright happiness as in childhood. Or is it a cheerful ray of sunshine dancing? To share with the world the joy of the free flow of the piano. For Tess.

Reading a book From a tabula rasa, with the title that appeared at birth, and until the end I am reading the book. A book of life, with color and black and white pictures, with joyful or banal or miserable text, with unfinished verses and some…

We wait, we count days, hours, minutes to the expected. With desire, with anxiety, with apprehension, with calm. Do we live during the count, in the intervals between events that we're waiting for, one after another? Probably, something unconscious…