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Life is too short for boring stories

And you lost yourself in the rain, just as the rain had carried you to me. From wherever, from whatever time. I never asked. Were you present or a relic from times long past? Did you come from here or from a utopia, nowhere and everywhere? There is nothing to interpret. Just listen.

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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Still I held the candle in my hand, which was long gone. I had not recovered yet, from the pain that my dreams would remain un-lived, that my hopes of living together and giving up possessions would not be fulfilled. It was not possible. Not in this world. Not in this society. I sat there …

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So I told you, from my experience and my cognition, from the symbiosis of the head with the heart, the pragmatics with the love. And because you are a man, you have been able to gain something from the idea of freedom of domination as long as an idea remains and you the Lord. Domination …

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It was on a rainy, wet-cold Monday in November at 5:40 am when the first muted message was made between the security guards of the subway. „Attention, suspicious subject is in the third car of the set of the U6, which has just left the station Siebenhirten,“ read these and all the security guards in …

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It was on one of those evenings in November, where you would not expect anything, because you cannot expect anything. It is the situation when you say to yourself: „Go home, do everything well and barricade the door, heat up well and make you a tea, maybe still relaxing in the bathtub, but more you …

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It happens, with all inevitability, which have such occurrences. And it happens again and again, even if I would have to know better. But it is also not easy to recognize. Again and again it dresses itself in another garment. If it were not so sad, I might consider it interesting. But it is sad, …

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The memory of you flows through me like a warm summer rain, sweeping me from all the gloom, everyday life, and normality. A summer rain in a desert landscape that lasts for months after rain, but as soon as the first drops hit, it blossoms in the most splendid colors, for a short while. The …

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