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Life is too short for boring stories

I am sitting on the beach. The waves break glittering in the sunlight. The sand trickles between my toes when I move them. It is still spring. I am alone. I keep looking over the sea. As far as the eye can see. The picture builds up and down. My black spaniel runs after the …

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You’re lying down on the couch, graceful like the Venus of Willendorf, maybe a bit wide-legged, picturesquely underlined by the flickering of the screen and the inevitable acoustic accompaniments of a football game, commented with delicate grunts. Meanwhile, I can distinguish them, I have settled into the male pattern of communication, can distinguish between „Bring …

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Cheerful, smiling, life-satisfied women who took care of the household and the children, who in the evening received the breadwinner with a tasty meal in a clean, bright apartment, that was the ideal of the times. Antonia also dreamed of it, like all the girls around her, who went to the factory with her every …

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Simply she was there. As always. Simply there. I had made a round of the lake and came back to my living room. The fire burned in the fireplace and she sat on the couch reading. Every time she sits and reads. „Why do you always read when you’re alone?“ I finally asked, because I …

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nature also revived. Maybe it was just a coincidence, or not. It does not matter. Roles, masks, ideas of ourselves, to which we correspond or not, of which we have a notion or not, which we have given ourselves or not. But there lay a promise in the air, as is often the case, but …

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