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Life is too short for boring stories

Eight parties on one floor.
A faucet for eight parties
for 30 people.
Now I have my own faucet.
In my flat.
When I turn it up
I remember
that it will never be again
the meeting in the aisle,
at the Bassena,
no exchange and no laughter,
no casual gatherings,
like back then
when the only faucet was in the corridor,
a faucet for 30 people on one floor.

News were spread.
Weddings.
To baptize.
Funerals.
Big caesuras.
But also the little worries and joys.
There was always someone
with whom you could share
out on the Bassena.
The children ran between the legs.
Children’s laughter, so pure and clear and piercing.
„Will you be quiet?“
it was said,
„Mister Prikopa,
with the stick
will fall again
if you are so impetuous.“
But then you had to laugh along.
“Little Wotrawa Franziska.
She won’t anymore“
was whispered,
„That’s quite a blow for the parents.“
Do you notice
full of respect
but also glad that
it doesn’t hit you.
The kids are going somewhere
once they grow up
room and kitchen apartment,
unless he deserves better
then Room-Kitchen-small room.
But none of that is there anymore
because the faucets are in the apartments
and you don’t meet again.
Of course it’s nice
the progress.
Water is always available
only togetherness
that does not exist anymore.
So many technical improvements
that make life easier
complicate the community.
It is no longer necessary,
to get together.
Most of the time you don’t know your neighbor.
It’s not worth
to take part
sometimes to help out.
Because you don’t know.
You don’t just knock on someone else’s door.
You keep to yourself alone
with his faucet
and slowly it falls into oblivion
because there are no eyewitnesses
who still knew
how it was,
back then,
at the Bassena.

Go to part 2 here.

Lifeimages

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