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Wild geese (haiku)
Read more: Wild geese (haiku)the sky stitched up by southward wings, its low-hanging belly exhaling.
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TIMISOARA23 Travel Guide Wins Silver Medal in 2024 FAPA Book Awards
Read more: TIMISOARA23 Travel Guide Wins Silver Medal in 2024 FAPA Book AwardsDear friends, today I have received confirmation that our storytelling travel guide TIMISOARA23: 23 Secrets You’ll Love About the City and the Romanian Banat has won a silver medal in the 2024 FAPA Book Awards! I’ll receive the actual medal in the mail in a couple of weeks and a digital certificate which I’ll share…
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TIMISOARA23: 23 Secrets – a FAPA Book Award Medalist!
Read more: TIMISOARA23: 23 Secrets – a FAPA Book Award Medalist!Dear friends, I have just received word that our storytelling travel guide TIMISOARA23: 23 Secrets, which I co-authored with my wonderful photographer friend Claudia Tanasescu, is a medalist in the 2024 FAPA President’s Book Awards! The award “recognizes book publishing excellence and creativity in design, content, and production for authors and publishers.” There’s still time…
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As mourning follows night*
Read more: As mourning follows night*back home I sleep with my ears unplugged the windows flung wide open into the guzzling night I remain watchful here, in the places my people have – one by one –trickled into the fatty earth I dive into the holes they left – deep dark enticing pools of fresh darkness – I eavesdrop: the…
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In search of „Moorish” culture: My spring ramble through Andalusia
Read more: In search of „Moorish” culture: My spring ramble through AndalusiaLadies and gents… (drum roll), the English version is here. Enjoy! Day 1. The blessings of individual travel It’s not every year that we are gifted with additional time. But a leap year calls for a leap of faith, and so, I leap out of the plane from Munich to Málaga in southern Spain avid…
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Frühling in Andalusien
Read more: Frühling in AndalusienI thought I’d try something new today: My Andalusian travel essay in German for my German-speaking followers ;-). It’s a first for me, but here it is: Auf den Spuren Maurischer Kultur Tag 1. Der Genuss des individuellen Reisens Die Leute um mich herum schauen auf ihre Handys. Ich schaue aus dem Fenster. Mir hat das…
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Quiet
Read more: QuietI have nothing to say. Today, I just want to be quiet, enjoy the luxury of a light breeze in the dry reeds, the popping of their ochre in the sun, the crunching of white pebbles underfoot in the black mire by the lake. Today I want to watch the empty windowsills and the roofs…
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The mountain
Read more: The mountainKnee-deep in snow, the mountain sits in stillness while we climb. Our skis, wading through powder, cut two tiny paths through the amnesia of whiteness. Ahead of us, blank page. The forest’s blotted out. A house we passed? A cross-hatch, receding in the distance. The peak? A mass of blur. You crane your neck, ‘How…
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The thicket
Read more: The thicketpeople have forged a pathway through the undergrowth, trampled the soggy earth, folded in leaves and twigs and absences, wet foliage overhead, burdened by clouds the color of sadness. my daily walk. I sidestep, eschew, go around greedy damp vegetating hands incessantly grabbing the narrowing light. I slither like a shadow among thorns. a stretch…
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People call it October (IV)
Read more: People call it October (IV)it’s fall. inexorable falling. the sun, now, nothing much but a hazy blotch of heat looking up from the water: sprawled, splayed, just light pouring, floating atop the river, blended with the chill. eddies of light quiet and deep crude glitter amid the discovery that foliage, quivering foliage can’t last; and time itself, being stripped,…
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People call it October (III)
Read more: People call it October (III)the air is crisp and cool the leaves are crisp and dying your walk on the levee, now, a brisk jog home. the horizon, burgundy, ashen, like a once raging fire put out by the night. from the river banks, a spectral mist, rising – reeking of sweet rot, all-engulfing – makes everything forgotten: the…
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People call it October (II)
Read more: People call it October (II)it’s always best when you don’t know where you’re going. let the path take you where you need to be. if your feet hurt, sit on the bristling grass, straddle the shoulder of that hill, whisper a loving prayer, or maybe even weep a little. put one foot forward – doesn’t matter which, but don’t…
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Writer Between Worlds 