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Life is too short for boring stories

You’re right, of course, it’s been a long time. If I try to remember now, it is as if a whole life would lie between the time when you were you to me and the today when you stepped out of which you left me as an empty shell of you. And isn’t that really …

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Prepare to you a place to return to when life has drained you, then you will find a pillow to bed yourself down and a blanket to warm you, then you will find peace and quiet and space to breathe. Prepare myself to you as the place to which you can return when the superficial …

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„Du musst Dich rüsten“, höre ich mich sagen. Eine letzte Umarmung noch, bevor wir uns verabschieden müssen. Ein letztes Mal noch ineinander verwoben und zurückfallen lassen in die Unbeschwertheit und Sorglosigkeit. Ich will es nicht denken, dass es einen Abschied geben kann. Ich konnte es nicht denken, dass es ein Ankommen geben konnte.

When you left, the pain came. A coming and going. You gave yourself the handle. I don’t know if it was unexpected, just that I literally fell out of the clouds. You just mentioned what we should do together. Deferred. Always postponed.„But not canceled,“ you said every time you canceled a meeting, „don’t think I …

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She carefully places the book on the bedside table, extends her arm and extinguishes the light, because he has fallen asleep, in her arm, his head on her shoulder. She resists the impulse to run her fingers through his hair as if that were enough to wake him up. He breathes calmly and evenly, finally …

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You get used to it. Onto had become part of our little family because we had become familiar, met and accepted each other in our respective so-being. „Just as you are,“ I said to myself,“ to supplement immediately, „and will become. In the one in which you are constant and in the one in which …

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The morning looks like every morning. That getting up was not easy for me, it has always been that way, I got used to it and take it, like the drizzle that knocks on the windowpane. Almost tender, but it’s the time when I’m too busy with myself to notice anything. Quite banal stuff. Put …

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From the first day we die. Not metaphorically, not allegorically, but really. Every day that passes, we have a day less. Every day a little death. Of course, in the beginning, there is still a construction, the illusion of becoming. How long? A few years? One and a half decades? And yet only illusion, because …

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You remember, back then, when we first met, when we fell in love with each other, when we were at this stage when we were ready to turn the world for each other, we talked about forever, because we believed in it deeply, because it could never change again. Nothing but illusion!

An open letter from a self-confessed carnivore to the hypocritical vegans Dear Ladies and Gentlemen from Vegania! Again and again you try to make me feel guilty because I eat meat. I eat only very little, at most once a day. And then only the neighbor farmer, who caresses it lovingly to death. I know …

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