Every Which Way

Even if I were

to continue to race around the world so much

I shall never succeed in being catapulted out into the universe

under my own steam.


With the 184 years I have so far racked up,

– 59 in Munich

– 39 in Palermo

– 15 in the Sahara

– 13 in Bamberg

–  8 in Lisbon

– 45 on the move and

around another 5 (five) elsewhere, unaware or simply spent in personal chaos.

I believe: 4 years detained in the same accommodation is enough. Otherwise…

…you start to run the risk of getting used to the set-up

and the objects that surround you

and often to the people around you too.

You become ever more sensitive about

when complacency threatens to creep its way in,

to settle with ease, best described with adjectives

such as ‘cosy’ or ‘homely’.

Then you count down the days

until you retire, find joy

in your grandchildren or even…

…a newly acquired or adopted pet…

and with false promises and not entirely correct assumptions, you hope for the ever puzzling

– the hereafter.

Where I – written small – so where ‘i’ who have felt at home in around 527 places, will find my final and yet first resting place, I’m not yet able to put into words.

(photo: plaques of deceased hermits, Saalfelden, Austria)



Simply stay where you are, your feet on the ground, on Earth.

And – bearing in mind that one is dust – always looking towards heaven.


Weather forecast: Clouds of angels.

That’s how it is.

Sometimes you bathe in deep waters,

and swim not entirely alone

against the current –

except for the final journey across the Jordan …


…or when silently,

stealthily friends

get in –

to get out of all this.