A glimpse into my present from the year 1983 I painted this picture when I was 11 years old. The year 1983 is visible on the wall calendar. Luckily, my parents kept this childhood drawing, as well as many others – pictures on which I lovingly drew in great detail, using up countless felt-tip pens. This picture pleases me especially because it seems that back then, at the age of 11, I already knew what I wanted to do later in life - and what my living space might look like. An

How many people write how many people paint how many draw and suffer and create without numbers How many are hoping and waiting How many cease to be? How many will manage and start? to become and to appear How many fall and remain lying? How many are getting up again? how many cower to get and accept everything for it How many people always post? daily into the great flood ghosting, shining, shimmering in longing or anger Where do they want to arrive? In which kingdom, in whi

How much does a carpenter earn per hour? How much an electrician? How much a teacher, a waitress? Are there tips? Are there any additional payments? And why am I not using gender-inclusive language? ... So many questions! I'm a writer and I sell a 200-page ebook for €4.99 on Amazon. How many hours did I spend writing this novel in my Rodiwana saga? And how many people won't read it because it's more expensive than a €0.99 ebook? The new issue of Die Zeit (second week of May 2

Winter Under the surface Earlier I wanted to dive beneath the folds of the pavement and search for what was essential under the surfaces, much more I wanted to forget myself and the moment, mostly in the rain, mostly before exams, mostly in separations, often on the bicycle and always at night on foot – then it pulled me so deeply inward and downward… into nothingness, toward nothingness, toward the longed-for emptiness of thought! Yet my thoughts were acrobats dancing around

Gedicht

Gedicht

Beobachtungen

Gedicht über mein Wismar

Thoughts on nests Nests Seagulls at the harbor on the Baltic Sea, on the North Sea Seagulls that you must not feed Seagulls that take everything from people's garbage or directly from the fish sandwich in hand skillfully in a dive Seagulls, indeed. I saw her during a festival. At the harbor, she heard wailing and screeching. we moved on they continued to complain back at the harbor suddenly quiet But in the old town they are screaming in every alley, every morning now nothing

Wir werden im hier entstehenden 4. Band der Reihe "Die Magie der Trohpa" gemeinsam in das Land "Rodiwana" reisen. Einstieg & Infos

I just found a Facebook post that I'd like to post here today: What is it about? Life People work, People work until they drop,...

Harvey Some search results from my laptop, nothing of my own today... because I write about this privately enough and am just collecting...

Downward into the future frank-zabel-photography.com Hardly anyone knows. We didn't either when we walked through the hotel doors. We...

from "Olivia and the Wow Signal" Ganesha The profit and the future Her parents still didn't know about the lottery win because they...

Born from a moment Dear readers of my blog, Three days ago, an idea emerged from a conversation, and the next morning I'd suddenly...

Save your own skin Ikarus The image is directed outwards, it smiles at the smartphone, it blogs and attracts and indulges in the...

poem Eyes look at you People Your parents You know nothing, just this moment and look back You are full of hunger You are full of...

or: Hans undresses - written after a bike ride by the sea, 11.09.2024 Hans undresses after the night battle pieces of wood lie, crowns...

Introduction- beginning of the novel Is this Lissje flying through time? What might Ottmar Silbring have said when he first sat in...