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or as a text on the wall:
'the border runs not between folks, but between the upper and the lower' |
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| City landscape in May |
Two Angels one church |
St. Michael Church |
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Sheriff Jesus is going to come and put all this in order!
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No snow in May.
Only the multitude poplar seeds coming down and landing on grass.
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Overwhelming power of life is visible |
while we go to the graveyard, to say Farewell to Lee. |
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Life has just ended, some sand is needed.
Great were the hopes and adventures, creativity and passion, love and work.
Small is a death hole in the meadow.
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Do you think that it
all ends with death?
Have no illusions, nothing is finite. Such is the nature of things that everything
is infinite.
Wait a minute, wait an eon, be patient!
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We go for a walk with Vero, my daughter. Mariannenplatz - party under every tree.
Smell of fire and meat, children's voices, dogs bellying.
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Oranienstrasse is filled with a crowd till the horizon, until the morning;
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this is St. Christopher's Day.
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This girl is standing on the street corner, because she's good-hearted.
Some breads, cheese, salad, caviar on her plate.
Perhaps there is a hungry one somewhere in the night, whom she could feed?
She's waiting in vane.
Boy shouts in her face: - Get gone with your caviar when you've no Champagne!
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Veronique shoots my photo by espresso in Cafe Jenseits. Reflection in a window above me is great!
No image manipulation!
That must have been a touch of grace.
All seems to be done - Veronique walking swiftly to see her girlfriends. |
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I am so brave! I am dancing the first time since my heart stroke (June) with.
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and back to Kreuzberg, on the path, which was once a minefield behind the Wall.
Art is everywhere!
Look at these artworks along the path. The strip of land where the Wall once stood is left wild and open for individual expressions. |
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Steel Fruit ripening under tree.
When I fly to heaven at a sunny day - I use to tie me that ball at my leg - to make my return to you possible once again.
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Two lovers take me in their embrace.
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Big lady and a little man. She rests there knowing her hip is a horizon for a man.
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And here under my window on the other side of the street - artists are working creatively - scholarship holders from many countries.
You see the heaps? Seems it is a rubbish. These are Art Materials!
Scholarship holders, most brilliant brains of the middle class, working at creating a world exhibition titled:
THERE IS NO RUBBISH YOU CAN'T PRODUCE A RUBBISH FROM! |
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With the passage of time - barbed wire
is eventually engulfed by the plants with the careful knowledge that life is soft
and merciless in the face of steel and weaponry.
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With the passage of time, every stair seems to hold its own secret, and climbs to nowhere.
I have been there, I know. Nowhere happens to exists, where aims are no more.
Nowhere is unknown to you, whilst you are in the grip of despair.
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Watchtower, a dummy remnant of the Berlin Wall, seems funny with the passage of time.
For many years, such a monster faced my windows, and as I remember, I shivered in disgust, constantly feeling the barrel of a gun was wandering across my back, while I was painting.
The boys up in the tower were busy playing their dirty games.
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Trees grow towards the sun, I know. But where does the chimney grow to?
Two barrels full of rust flakes for the right answer!
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A dramatic conjecture -
mister Nobody himself crucified that tree in a front of the church.
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Window in the corner.
There you could have live as a poet, who thinks in tune with leaves motion
and dreams in their music...
If only the world was a different one...
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Sunset from my window. Good night - for today. |
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