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Life is too short for boring stories

But there are also the uniforms, next to them, which are not identified as such, but can still be classified immediately by those familiar with society. The businesspeople, the workers, the hip and chic, the serious, the rich and those who pretend, the poor, and those who pretend they aren’t, embedded in informal command structures …

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We, you and me, we talk to each other. Of course, we talk to each other because it brings us closer to each other, or because it brings us apart. We talk to each other anyway. Depending on the situation, we tell each other about our experiences, tell each other about yesterday we come from, …

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We laughed and we lived, just like that, unsuspecting, but considerate of each other. That day it happened was like any other, full of foreshadowing and hopeful. „Do we want to take the train there, up the mountain and look at the world from above, today when the sky is so clear, and the view …

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I was so sure, so, so, so, so sure or was I just as sure as I am sure of myself, always just so vaguely? No, I was absolutely sure, as sure as I could be, that the moon would rise again the next evening, as sure as I could be sure that it would …

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“You love me,” he thinks, “and actually you’ve always loved me. You just didn’t admit it to yourself, didn’t admit it. Like a light in the ailing darkness, a positioning in the midst of the vagueness of your poor, desolate life. But what, you must have asked yourself what if I had left you, if …

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What is it about, with this unrestrained and unrestrainable longing that is spreading in me, raging in me, like a rapidly growing ulcer that remains without healing and relief because there is no remedy for it? What is it, with this eternally driving restlessness that dwells in me, that takes me more and more into …

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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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The chaos was in the river, still in the river, around the safe harbor that we let become in our words, our jetty on the lake, the lake, the ferryman and the window. We let the water of the lake wash over us, dived, swam, but when we reached the opposite bank it was the …

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There can only be one way to get together, the direct one. There can only be one willingness to be with one another, the unconditional one. And there can only be one time to be together, the now. We sat on our jetty, still flowing around, blown around by the chaos, but already with a …

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In the flow of chaos, in the center of the unformed, we want to set a new beginning as ours. But where do you start? Where do we want to set our first fixed point?

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