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Life is too short for boring stories

I sat on the dock, on the dock again, that night. You left, sometime before that you left, into your world and left me here, here in my world, which we, speaking, snatched from the flow of chaos. Now that it was complete again, now you could withdraw. And I was sitting on the jetty …

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There was nothing more than the kind of simple happiness that was not grandly announced or expected, but simply was there, with all naturalness, as if there could be nothing else, as if it couldn’t be otherwise. I plunged into the clear night, into its sweet, beguiling scent, into the gentle breath of the wind …

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… to walk through the forest, with you to breathe in the fresh, clear winter air and let this very special atmosphere work. It is nothing more than a cluster of trees. Nothing happens there. That’s boring. It is so terribly unhectic and unspectacular. But for those who can breathe and smell and feel it, …

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„Sometimes it’s really not easy with you!“, I think. The thought then has not just one, but three exclamation points. All that is audible is a deep sigh and a tearing apart of everything you say. No matter what it is. Nevertheless, the thought remains, it is not easy with you. And I feel like …

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You have your head on my leg. Because that’s how it happened. I sat and you came to me, still a little dreamy, spun into the happenings that life gave us. Pensive, my hand strokes your hair. You keep your eyes closed while I look at you, just look and my hand does the rest. …

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… to be the best of your life, full of love, life, passion and joy. Give yourself a chance.

It was one of those, no longer so frequent, opportunities, since I had settled in the midst of the most beautiful depression, apparently with the unspoken, even unthoughtful intent to stay awhile when you came to me. I had not invited you and would not have done so, since I was actually in a place …

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At the moment, I can identify two tendencies in the area of ​​family policy: the increased deportation of children into their own spheres of life and the urge for parents to return to work as quickly as possible. The question is: Does this contribute to the well-being of those affected?

Sometimes I am cuddly like a little kitten.

I’m standing on the sidelines, in the dark, in the cold. Glaringly the place is lit up by the floodlights. Not more than ten people watching the game. Friends, relatives, acquaintances in the first place, because here the women play soccer. The fate of a marginal sport. Whereby soccer itself is anything but marginal. As …

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