Thinkpiece: About chance and failed love

She says, “I still have to think about him a lot.” And smiles. We meet on a park bench, she with her newspaper, me with my coffee. Actually, it should only be a short walk on a Sunday morning. Instead I met this older woman. Quite by chance. An encounter that I won’t forget so soon. She looks at the empty playground. “I often come here. Actually every morning. Then she puts her newspaper aside. Her fingers are tender despite the many wrinkles, her eyes shine as she begins to speak. Despite her age, she has not lost her zest for life.

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Thinkpiece: From The Fairy Tale of Fear

She can’t breathe. Trying to gasp for air. A rope is tied around her throat. She tries to free herself. With every breath she feels the narrowness. The pulse stops when he touches her. Millions of insects crawl, crawl and spread over her body. When he slowly strokes her shoulder, each of her limbs shrugs.

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Thinkpiece: Vom Märchen der Angst

ie kann nicht atmen. Versucht nach Luft zu schnappen. Ein Seil schnürt sich um ihre Kehle. Sie versucht sich loszulösen. Mit jedem Atemzug fühlt sie die Enge. Der Puls bleibt stehen, wenn er sie berührt. Millionen von Insekten, die krabbeln, kriechen und sich in auf ihrem Körper verbreiten. Wenn er langsam über ihre Schulter streicht, zuckt jedes ihrer Glieder zusammen.

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