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Life is too short for boring stories

Every day is new, every day is different. Certainly there are things that repeat themselves. Again and again. Brush teeth. For example. Eat. For example. Sleep. It can be minimized. As far as possible. And in between the possibilities wait. When you want to see them, and not just what is repetitive. We can. But …

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It had long since announced itself, the rain. I sat on the dock and waited. The full moon was hidden behind a thick blanket of cloud. Drop by drop by drop fell on me, soaking my dress, my skin, my hair, but I stayed, because you had come, sat next to me in the rain …

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Softly Ontos beak touched the plumage of Logos. I held her, feeling the blood, but also the warmth of her body, and suddenly I realized that her heart was beating. Very weak, but unique. That’s what Onto wanted to tell me. I had to hurry. I went back as fast as I could and drove …

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Onto came and went as he pleased. Sometimes he flew along on our walks and disappeared again. It was nice to watch him, in his power and joy that gives the young life. In what intensity was it connected to life, it cost, scooped it up, without its current becoming less and less. On the …

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Hedgehogs are cute. There is a far-reaching consensus about this. It’s hard to say what that is. Probably it’s the funny proportions, with the broad body resting on seemingly too short legs. But it could also be the type of locomotion that brought him this status. In any case, the spines are very sharp, as …

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It was already dawn when I found her. The search had been difficult because I had to avoid being seen. So, I drove with my little boat, as calm and restrained as possible, from one island to another. There were many. The only thing I knew was that she had to stay here somewhere. At …

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I have never been different than I am. I never got bent. Nobody ever stopped me from spreading my wings and flying away if I wanted to. Nobody could ever cut my wings. Yes, sometimes I stay, for a little while, until it gets too tight for me, until it feels as if I’m suffocating …

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„Do you really know what heaven, bliss is like?“, I asked you suddenly, and it must have been a frightening question, because at the same moment your book fell from your hand. „Of course not. Nobody knows, because even if there is this sky, no one can give information about how it looks there, because …

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Where were you, His disciples, as He went down into the deepest of desolations? Where have you, His disciples, hidden you, trembling and fearful, when He died the death that embraces all others? Where have you been, Simon Peter, when He abandoned himself to inevitability? Where have you been, Simon Petrus, you rock that crumbles …

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