Sunday morning, a walk on the beach, little rocks under my feet, the green & the blue, sky & water, they are born anew with every sunrise, luring me into a new day, life is good. Which it is. I know it is. Yet, I can not stop thinking about the feast, we are not willing to share. How many do you hold in your arms, you perfect one? Thousands & I still love you! My love is fierce. Does your green & blue fill them with serenity, while their breath leaves your tender, watery grib? Do they feel you, promise? A life of dreams seemed almost close. (At least six humans die in the mediterranean every day. I will be here for thirteen days.) So, while collecting about 50 pieces of plastic garbage on the empty morning beach, I feel like a steward of the earth for just a second & think about a line of poetry by Wendell Berry, There are no unsacred places. ...
Lobedentag. Das war als, auch, Programm gemeint, für ihr ganzes Leben. Lobe den Tag, verdammt nochmal. Und zwar nicht erst am Abend, sondern ständig, zu jeder vollen und halben Stunde. Finde Gründe, den Tag zu loben und höre damit nie wieder auf. Create random acts of kindness and closeness, zu jeder vollen und halben Stunde. Lass das die Art sein, wie Du den Tag lobst. Der Blog als Reisebeschreibung Verschlüsselt natürlich.