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refurtage from piran
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1 v Piran, Slovenia. Even after a dozen visits, I can't help but love this not entirely unique little town near the border with Italy and Croatia with its thousand details. Coming here gives me the confidence that a McDonald's branch in Mexico gave me in 1977. Everything always remains as I remembered it. I scrape my hands and feet on the sharp edges of the breakwater, I lie on pebbles and sunbathe until my head aches and the sun has done its work on my skin. In the evening I go to dine and notice that cevapcici are prepared completely unchanged since they were invented so that I am still plagued by stomach pains on the second day after. Giuseppe Tartini lifts his hat. Limestone everywhere. And it's loud. At dawn from the brooding seagulls, all day long from the tourists and mopeds in the narrow streets and in the evening from people who come to eat in flip-flops. I smoke too many cigarettes, drink too much wine, eat too much meat, fish and french fries. Too much of everything. And the wonderful, crystal clear sea and the sea air. I'll be back there asap.
refurtage from hallstatt
hallstatt, 2020
1 v Probably almost a hundred times I was led through through museums and exhibitions by strangers, by people however who were not able to contact me, to become significant, meaningful for me . Honestly spoken, their language and their actions were of incalculable meaning. By the way I was almost never interested in the content. I don't know why I used the services of these so-called intermediaries. Presumably, to avoid embarrassing situations that would have arisen, if I would not have taken the offer of a tour or explanation.
harbor
piran, 2021
1 v I fall into the ocean without stopping I sink into the unfathomable depth of your eternity for a moment I overcome the illusion and may taste the sweetness of peace At the same time - my heart is on fire kindled by the love of your sea that touches the bottom of my soul and lifts the veil of truth - for a quick glance ...
nevertheless
2007 - 2018 12 v
Go forth, burning sighs, to that sweet place. Where it, which does not heed my suffering, remains, so proud to see, and so secure, taking life und its power as but a game. And there, armed with arrows and fire, besiege that hard and adamantine soul. So that it will turn to more merciful concerns, and so that it will take pity on my weakened laments. Go and tell the landscape of my pain, and how I go crying, short of breath. Ah, who hides from me that beautiful, gentle gaze? And then return, with it will tamed, to make my life happy and serene, for now it is loathsome to others, and burdensome to me.
refurtage from ston
ston, 2019
1 v Probably almost a hundred times I was led through through museums and exhibitions by strangers, by people however who were not able to contact me, to become significant, meaningful for me . Honestly spoken, their language and their actions were of incalculable meaning. By the way I was almost never interested in the content. I don't know why I used the services of these so-called intermediaries. Presumably, to avoid embarrassing situations that would have arisen, if I would not have taken the offer of a tour or explanation.
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