All Posts

As children, we often cannot wait to leave certain things behind. And then, years later, we find ourselves searching for them again. Near the house where I grew up stood a huge linden tree. On hot summer afternoons, when the heat made everything slow and heavy, I would lie beneath its branches listening to the loud buzzing of bees above me. Every summer, we gathered different herbs and flowers for tea. But somehow, the scent of linden blossoms stayed with me more strongly tha

Clouds gather overhead, turning the sky blueberry blue. The heavy heat of the summer day suddenly breaks with a low rumble of thunder. Then the rain comes. Drops like cherries crash against the ground and onto my skin. This summer, I choose not to run. I do not search for shelter. I stay, eyes closed, face lifted toward the sky, while the rain falls like full stops.

As I wander through the forest, I search for wild strawberries hidden among the grass. They are like treasures waiting to be discovered. Even before I spot them, their fragrance fills the air. This is how June and love smells. I thread the ripe berries onto a long blade of grass and carry them home, as if they were the most precious gift. And so, year after year, like the gentoo penguin who offers the smoothest pebble to its beloved, I bring wild strawberries to my husband. A

August is summer’s Sunday — bittersweet and golden. To make the most of the last warm days, I decided to paddle down the Isar alone on my SUP board. The thought alone made my knees shake. I learned to swim late in life and still avoid putting my head underwater whenever I can. Standing on the board, I felt both fear and awe. Beneath me, the dark water. Around me, only the sound of the river. I had planned to go farther, but dark clouds gathered above me and the first drops of

Lately, happiness has become something to analyse and chase. We approach it with furrowed brows, as if joy were an academic degree to be earned. But walking barefoot among roots and damp earth, I feel how little I need. Damp leaves cling to the soles of my feet. Mud presses between my toes. Wind against my skin. For a moment, the noise inside me quiets. I return to myself. To my roots.