Thursday, February 28, 2008

tile of thought

enter brown sand
mosaic circle slide
glass metal nature
luna lesson: turn
a beige named red
square line left

imagine the room now
that you want
that you could

Tuesday, February 19, 2008


sometimes, tiny riddles of life wait in the most common routines. this afternoon, i was in the garden, raking winter moss out of the lawn in preparation for spring, and suddenly i saw a mouse. sitting there. without making a move.

i kneeled down, afraid that i had hurt it. but no – the mouse was okay. it just sat there, looking. “hi,” i said. it hopped to the next grass seed and started nibbling on it. “are you new to this world?” i asked. “never heard that birds and cats and other big things chase mice?”

the mouse nibbled on. i couldn’t help it, i had to go and fetch the camera. it was still there. and when i kneeled down again, to try and take a photo – it came closer, to have a look at the camera. and then it sat again, curious and unafraid, seeming old and young at the same time.

and funny – later today, i will go to cinema with my parents, to see the new film named “Earth”. here the web page:

but my earth moment today probably was .. this little mouse.

Wednesday, February 06, 2008


i woke up with this longing for new books, for different pages. so i went to the library. didn't check the traffic news. and there i was. in the second major traffic jam this week that was caused by a turned truck. stuck between cars, i listened to music.

but it was all worth it. in the library, David Mitchell's Cloud Atlas waited. this book, i first saw it in December, in a bookshop. i was unsure about it back then, but noted the title, to read a review in the web. now it's here. together with Murakami and Musil.

from the library, i went to villa merkel - to see the Emily Jacir exhibition. it's ending this sunday, that's why i finally made it. plus, it felt like the right day for it. and it was. the wind blew leafs through the air as i walked to the villa, and kept them up there, kept them from falling. there were 2 girls with their mothers, chasing them. they all wore headscarfs. they all laughed.

i front of the villa, a construction ladder. but the door - open. just a few other visitors there, on this early wednesday afternoon. clouds playing with the shades, then sudden sunlight streaming in through the huge windows. it's such a precious place. its old walls and floors offering a base to modern photography, to acryl paintings, to installations.

and there it is. Jacir's tent. the one i saw in the web yesterday. now i see it for real. can touch it. can walk into it. can feel the hands of all those who helped to create it. next to it, an open folder - day pages. with lists of those who walked through the open door of her studio.

upstairs, a white room. it is empty. empty but for the white plates that run along the wall. i step up to the plates, and realize they are e-mails. copied by hand, copied word by word. line by line. electronic messages, made visible. words that were never meant to be published, unedited, uncorrected, unpolished. intense like life. inbox, the name of the installation.

it's like this day feels: all inbox, after days of outbox. that's what i think on the way back home, on another route, one that keeps me in safe distance from the fallen truck, from the traffic jam. one that takes me up the slope, to the edge of the valley, instead of keeping me inside of it.

back home, i find 2 petals on my desk, fallen while i was away, while i was watching leaves fly.


Saturday, February 02, 2008


sunday morning slide
of sky, still words
on writing resonate
the coffee breathes
while it brews


I thought that if I could put it
all down, that would be one way.
And next the thought came to me
that to leave it all out would be
another, and truer way.
- from "A Writer's Aviary / John Ashbury"

The best piece of real and realistic advice
that I can give an aspiring writer is,
make sure you turn yourself into
a terrific editor of your work.
You have to realize that
most good writing that we know
is rewriting.
- from "WSJ / Elisabeth Scharlatt"

So many of my undergrads come in
and they think they're the best writers in the world,
they think they know everything.
So part of my job is to focus in
on what they don't know,
and whatever it is they do know,
that's what they need to be writing about.
You have to be patient.
- from "WSJ / Silas House"