Simon says 'lie down'. I say 'how eternal'. I never knew Simon had a way with words. #1 in series of art/poetry conversation pieces between me of now and me of then.

Meanwhile the wind has torn the space blankets on the neighbour’s windows apart. They are blowing in the wind. Their rustling is an acoustic signal that the fresh breeze is still there clearing the stagnant air from the closets, too. The wind knows no obstacles but without obstacles it is invisible.

The strains of the last few weeks, the heat, the cat worries, all sticking to my legs & feet today, yet I stumbled into an exhibition of the hospice association by chance - although I don't believe in coincidence - and spotted an impressive plant climbing up the old city wall like a queen of weeds.

Caught in the Heat

Today, an e-bike was hot on my heels, eager to overtake. After it had finally taken off I needed a hydration break. Above me, the shy encounter of 2 treetops – oak & unknown beauty - and a weeping willow by the stream, their hanging branches forming a dark cave. You preferably want to crawl inside.

In the half-light of the heat, the heroic Clivia is in full bloom, whereas the cat has built himself a hiding place out of freshly washed sheets and towels. I let him. These are hard times for his little, too big heart. Hope I haven't miscalculated, but he should have at least three lifes left.

Orange Porridge

🤍 „Alles schwirrt über dem Grün und ich denke: noch. Ich denke immer in Ablaufdaten, Halbwertszeiten, immer alles vom Ende her.“ Mag dieses kleine Büchlein sehr sehr gern.

"Es ist ganz leicht, sich das Ende der Welt vorzustellen. Jetzt, hier." (Romina Nikolić, Litanei der Leichtigkeit, in der du-) @rominanikolic.bsky.social

Helene Schjerfbeck, "Dancing Shoes" (1939 or 1940) & Michael Thompson, "Girl with a Hole in Her Stocking" (2008)

Was prägt uns mehr - unsere Vergangenheit oder die Erinnerungen an das, was wir für unsere Vergangenheit halten. Dichtung, Wahrheit, Wirklichkeit. Im Jetzt treffen sie sich und flüstern uns ihre Erzählungen ins Ohr." Gabriele von Arnim, "Abschied leben Tagebuch eines Zeitgefühls"

The pigeons's cooing like a heatwave warning today. By the bridge a woman gives her dogs loving care on how to halt & walk. OK, I think, you’re not alone. Someone carries a last-minute fan through the park. Sverving a pothole my leg brushes the wayside full of stinging nettles, &, oh oh, I'm alive.

Say it in broken turquoise.

William Corbett, that last line

"Aus Kierkegaards Novelle 'Wiederholung': 'Wiederholung und Erinnerung ist dieselbe Bewegung, nur in entgegengesetzter Richtung, denn das, woran man sich erinnert, ist gewesen, wird rückwärts wiederholt, wogegen man sich bei der eigentlichen Wiederholung nach vorwärts erinnert.'"

"..Zeit als die Linie eines einzelnen Menschenlebens, das mit dem Tod endet, und Zeit als ein Rad, das sich dreht und die Zyklen von Geburt und Tod einschließt. Michail Bachtin nannte diese kreisförmigen Wiederholungen idyllische Zeit. Sie ist an einen Ort gebunden, gewöhnlich einen ländlichen Ort."

Die Kirschen im Stadium von Oliven, die Bäume über und über damit. - In einem Olivenhain aufwachen, in einem Olivenhain in der Hängematte liegen, wiegen.

Albert Marquet (1875-1947) — The Large Olive Tree, 1943.

Take the dream into the day.

vor lauter Rehsehnsucht ein Rehbett in der Wiese und einen Schalenabdruck in der frischen Erde um den Lavendel sehen

"Die Zukunft ist schließlich eine endlos hinausgeschobene Erfindung. Wenn das, was einmal die Zukunft war, aufkreuzt, ist es nicht mehr die Zukunft."

Cycling beneath a baldachin of blossoming lime trees. Heavenly. Apocalyptic storms have left their traces. A woman strolls along the tousled banks of the stream. Now & then she bends down to pick a flower for the wild bunch she already holds in her hands. I see the dense purple spikes of clover.

May in four photos

Jon Loomis

Die meisten Déjà-vus sind im Grunde Déjà-sentis.

Wikipedia nennt es Erinnerungstäuschung, ich nenne es siebtes Leben.

Window in window

I’ve always found jelly disgusting – it’s just the colour that’s cool. You can’t help but feel a bit sorry for the woodruff, though, considering how the green colour, for example, it’s associated with comes into being. A mixture of Acid Yellow 3 and Acid Blue 3.

Ein Grün wie Götterspeise an den Rändern des Bewusstseins.

In dreams

Breezing to the next village at the crack of dawn, across an empty town square, the rising morning sun on your face. Stopping by at the bakery that’s just opened & treating yourself to a croissant fresh from the oven. Almost like being on holiday. The secret is to make the familiar feel unfamiliar.

‘Most of the time the universe speaks to us very quietly in pockets of silence, in coincidences, in nature, in forgotten memories, in the shape of clouds, in moments of solitude, in small tugs at our hearts.’ Yumi Sakugawa

Coincidences

In other news, 🎈.

Out & about with the early birds. A 2d coffee at my son’s. The cats are all right. On the way back I meet the man without shelter who always says he’s fine when asked. At the next stoplight a driver floors his Porsche and speeds across the junction. The world is full of contrasts and contradictions.

On a side note, why is it that bicycles are often named after figures from ancient mythology? As it happens, I’m currently riding a Hercules, having previously been the proud owner of a Pegasus and a Hera.

Having to feed my son’s cats twice a day opens up new routes and insights. The frog pond in the middle of a large car park, for example, where a few madmen organise car races in the evening, whilst others are already placing their entertainment sites for the forthcoming fair.

"Erinnern, vergessen, erfinden, träumen, halluzinieren. Wissen wir immer, wo das Eine beginnt und das Andere endet?" Siri Hustvedt, "Ghost Stories Ein Buch der Erinnerung" (aus dem Englischen von Grete Osterwald und Uli Aumüller)

*over*

Low weather, temperature, mood. Wrapped up in 4 layers I vault over the bike. In the umbrageous park the air is clammy. The lush greenery all around appears almost surreal. On the way back, as forecast, it starts to rain. To level things up you must take risks, yet I could have done with a warm cap.

really two worlds, this light, that dark, these fingers swimming through . . . -Gustaf Sobin

a low tide harbour that changes the shape of everything

Quand devant toi Tu as l'océan Tu fréquentes les abords De ton intérieur. Guillevic, _Hôtes de la lumière_

Für eine Millisekunde das Meer riechen, jedes Stück einzeln in die Hand.