for you, whom i value.

during every morning yoga and-or morning tea, each day anew, I assess my truth(s). I precisely question how i live, who I live with. And I wonder why. Thereby I dont live by habit, but consciously take decisions about the how & who. about what stays and what goes. about what is true and what isnt. about what matters. about who matters. about who is trustworthy. for this moment. again and again interrogating meaning & value. So when I say I love you, it’s never because I’m used to our friendship. Every day you’re chosen. And I believe this is what fills life. Every day i decide what and who makes me grow. Every day you are a fascinating & inspiring element I want to be in touch with and reach out for. Everyday I aim to live. Everyday i try to live







cold as a rat tail
and whatever you do you gotta fail
sliding on the bright yellow banana peel
getting caught in a big red ferry wheel

warm as a cat’s paw
and while the sun turns pale’n’raw
I turn on your mind and
……….on my heel
trapped in the stormy glow, we feel
feathery touches on our starving winter skin.

-blows&winter skin-

wpid-Photo-11-Dec-2013-546-pm Continue reading


cold rain. sweeping the floors, the candles, the words. leaving but naked longing on the skin.


back from 2weeks surfing guys! – intensity no scale could mesure.


> minds drifting off whenever they try to grasp late reality. you’re the rip drawing me into your vast fathomless sea. no more steady ground under the feet, we’re walking paths made of water&light now. deep lightnings strolling over my body. whispers&waves.


//sweater Maison Scotch  top Superdry  jeans Replay  shoes La Cord Blanche //

observations part one (>frances little pieces of prose)

Her hands were always cold. Were like lacy white tips of her body’s black gown, streaky with delicate deep blue veins apparently tracing out the imperceptible tracks to a venomously vertiginous summit. Her flesh mapped and her mind floated. Her skin was such a translucent wafer-thin cover that I believed if not paying attention a mere glimpse could rip it off and get me caught indelibly in the fine net of veins pulsating underneath it. There ran through her celestial figure the same alternation of blue and white. The same in her arms and in her eyes. The same blue. The same white. The same cold.