at the Tate

1) and for 30 some meters, I walked along a corridor drenched in fog and a bright yellow light. it was impossible to make out the origin of this warm and immediate experience. psychedelic drugs must induce this feeling or a near-death moment or the instant of being born or born again. 2) a little […]


an elderly Russian couple taking plate by plate with cake and even more cake and letting all of it disappear in the depths of the grocery bags between their legs. a Somali woman with her two sons “success” and “love”, granting them the kind of Christmas that allows for them to share their experience with […]

showing up

it isn’t easy to curl out of the warmth and comfort of home these days when all moments before dawn are covered in a white layer of frost. thick fields of fog stretch along the river valley which I bike through on my way toward the station. but then, after a few moments out in […]


he wears a hat and a moustache and has been to places and through things in his mind. he looks straight ahead, but diffusely so and keeps things to himself. she, wearing red — velvet or silk, one cannot tell — has put up her hair for the night. she knows about the poise she’s got, […]

building things

so as these luscious opportunities present themselves to co-create our work place and relationship and other things of great earthly importance, Steven’s question about which house we want to build inevitably arises (Acts 7: 48). truly, the options between heaven and earth are countless. it all could be this, it all could be that; right […]

day 4

saw my sisters. called grandma on her 91st. cleaned the entire apartment. sent some very important emails. and some postcards. got my yoga stuff in order. had a beer on the couch. watched the news. read them, too. felt the excitement for the work week ahead. missed and still miss my person. wrote these little lines. […]


eine einzige Trompete tönt hell und klar durch den Raureif benetzten Wald früh an diesem Novembermorgen. sie ist gemacht für die alten Stücke inmitten des Orchesters, aber heute spielt sie allein; nur das lautlose Fallen der letzten Blätter und ihr eigenes Echo sind zu hören. sie erzählt von einem großen Jahr mit einem wahrhaften Hang […]