Frieden machen
Ein paar Tage bevor ich gegangen bin, habe ich mit der Stadt Frieden gemacht.
Es hatte damit zu tun, dass ich mit mehreren Menschen geredet hatte - die sich hier schon länger befunden haben, oder auch im Umland - über die Menschen, die hier fast noch länger leben, oder auch im Umland.
Und wie sie das gefunden haben, wie ihnen das alles passiert ist und mit wem sie sich verbunden haben. Viel ging es um Schwierigkeiten; und die Entdeckungen, die ich gegen Ende gemacht habe, für mich.
Ein weiterer Faktor war auch der, klar, dass ich wusste, dass ich bald weg sein würde.
Weil; Zurück kommen will ich ja auch nicht; weder bleiben noch gehen; gespalten in zwei; lieber weiterreisen, reisen.
Wo das Ideal liegt, ob es das Ideal gibt, wo das Ideal liegt, oder, ob es einen Ort gibt, an dem man gerne bleiben will für ganz lange, oder, dass man einfach irgendwann aufhört zu suchen, weil man müde geworden ist, oder aus Bequemlichkeit, oder der Einfachheit halber; Das weiß ich nicht.
Mit Sicherheit aber kann ich sagen, dass Bonfim nicht der Ort ist, wo ich sterben möchte, auch, wenn es zu Deutsch das gute Ende heißt und hübsche Hügel hat.
Es gab ja diese Geschichte von einer Person, ich glaube es war eine Schauspielerin, oder eine Schriftstellerin, ich habe das schon lange vergessen;
aber der Punkt in der Erzählung ist der (zur Illustration kann einfach angenommen werden, es wäre eine Schriftstellerin, weil die hat vermutlich eine Art Beziehung zu den Worten und deren Bedeutung), dass sie in Cedofeita geboren wurde, was so viel heißt wie "Früher Vogel fängt den Wurm" in meiner freien Übersetzung; tatsächlich heißt es einfach früh gemacht oder im weiteren Sinne auch irgendwie früh aufgestanden (da gibt es ohne Zweifel auch ein Sprichwort im österreichischen Volksmund dazu), und wo ihre Tage ihrem Ende entgegen sich bewegen, da ist sie schon ganz zufrieden, dass sie ein gutes Ende haben wird, weil dort wohnt sie jetzt.
Das sind meine subjektiv gefilterten Erinnerungen, es war die Geschichte schon von erster Hand ein wenig wirr.
Was ich gerne mache ist in Flugzeugen und Häfen schreiben; es sind unpersönliche Übergangszonen, meistens habe ich nicht genug geschlafen und noch weniger gegessen, ich echauffiere mich fürchterlich über die Preise der Nahrungsmittel (was ja auch eigentlich nicht zumutbar ist, wo sie dir das Wasser wegnehmen; immer wieder) und habe keine Gesellschaft (also manchmal habe ich die natürlich schon, aber die letzten Male eher nicht; derzeit liegt es mir auch nicht nahe ephemere Kurzzeitbeziehungen zu beginnen, ich habe nach dem Atlantik dem Rücken Kehren schon irgendwie beschlossen fürs Erste ein bisschen mehr Stabilität und Beständigkeit zu suchen (diese Entscheidung mag in den nächsten Tagen durchaus widerrufen werden und ich begäbe mich auf einen Road Trip durch die Gänze der kürzlich von mir bewohnten Welt).
Ich mag es wie die Worte fließen und wie sie wie Teig auf einer Form sich kneten lassen; in meiner Angst vor dem geschriebenen Wort und seinen Meißeln und Steinen und Spachteln und Hämmern wäre ich gerne zuversichtlich und in die Richtung denkend, dass ich diese Reduktion und es auf den Punkt gebracht haben wollen, irgendwie umschiffe.
Niemals habe ich das Boot von Pilotos nach Gaia genommen, ich bereue es ein wenig, es war dort immer sehr pittoresk und lokal. Die Anlegestelle war dem Meer schon ganz nahe und überall wurde geangelt.
central fucking europe where you pay the same for one small bottle of water when you could have -
menschen tragen haarschnitte und weiße hosen und auch aufnäher an den ellbögen von den jacken mit schnitt
wenn ich sprachen höre versuche ich sie zuerst in gewohnten mustern zu erkennen (natürlich)
die kleidung sieht im gesamten jedenfalls neuer und weniger getragen aus (das hat in den letzten monaten eher die tourismus treibenden von den vom tourismus lebenden unterschieden)
vienna
expectation # attitude
everyone looks like a viking (or two; i could hardly remember that people as blond as that existed in the real world; naturally)
(the ones on the plane looked quite clean and rich; and quite white too, i have to admit that; yes, all of those classifications are highly problematic, even more so written)
things are incredibly expensive (my point of reference has changed; it will probably rotate back soon, most of the way, but i will never be able to return completely; once you have been outside for longer, you cannot go back)
people are tall (physically speaking)
i understand every single word and nuance (shade) of what people are saying (it's terrible)
i will miss the sea (i never even knew what it was like to miss the sea as i have never lived so close to it before; you just have to reach out and such) and all kinds of small places that i have become so fond of; it was a luxury to have them nearby
i will miss the wild mix of languages that surrounded me at pretty much all times (which got worse instead of better in the course of events and time)
i will miss some amazing people that i have met (i will only realize the value of those relations and what they meant and how much they meant when i found another kind of distance, from that place i have lived through; change direction)
i will miss their gestures and their way of speaking, their accents, their small obsessions and noises they make; their colors and patterns
combinations; combine
no feelings
it was very sudden
opening doors and one thing above another (everything has its end)
the balcony (red and with plants in pots, improvised ones and flea market ones and a present and old things shop ones)
eventually i might even miss the polite distance, the way people interact with one another (as observed from the outside, i would have learned slowly, how things really work; i got an inkling of it in the end; truly; in my opinion; it would have been a great starting point, the one i am leaving from)
if you are interested, you say it and you talk and you communicate it (immediately; generally speaking, generalizing, take it back) and now that i even knew what the nothing was people were talking about; aside of that, i could have expressed myself a bit more clearly; maybe, despite all the words and all the experience, i am quite incapable in that area sometimes (always; it just does not always show); perfection is not real ---
as i am lacking social notions (in some areas of courtesy and small talk) i would never have gotten really involved; already in the past ten months all i did was making clear that, for me that is, silence can be comfortable and not instantly responding could be due to a train of thoughts that started rolling or crashed into another inside of my head; to prefer to sit in the back of the train for fear of being smashed between the seats, when the walls of the wagons are found in a movement of rapid approximation)
it's strange
to come back into a space that is so empty, leaving a space that is so empty (and all the things on the way between two points; found, lost, broken, deconstructed; going postal and sleeping in the belly of the aeroplane)
it will be much too fast; traveling via flights is an awful way of traveling, in the air, in midair; eeriness
i never expected that all those things would finally fit into those bags and boxes and suitcases and not weigh more than they should (or what they say that they should; things do not usually just change their weight like that, their matter being quite static and unforgiving)
the language; talking about language; playing with language; having them all around; probing waters, pools between the rocks -
an openness that came and went and returned and made me try (things; all kinds)
i learned so much; i want to share it; i don't want to let it go (and i can't, but i want to keep it close, for longer)
all the being alone; being lonely; being on my own; being together; being with others; being with several
being scared; being insecure; being afraid; holding back; holding breath;
going crazy; it got out of my hands;
the sunk boat; the line on the cash machine; the language; the ballet -
the hand on your leg; music in a car; the sea; drag shows; dance moves; shoes; letting you in
last day; last chance; fast; amazing; shiny eyes; bright smile
overcome a fear; overcame a fear; before closing; black eyes; first day of summer
all the people i kissed; and the one, whose only memory i have is a name and the way the scarf was put around the neck (it was still winter then)
being/getting accustomed (i wrote acostumed first; because it's very portuguese to write acostumed) to using words whose horizons you cannot even guess
in some cases even without checking the taste on my tongue
finding words that have a meaning in your language; finding words that have the same meaning in your language;
accepting that certain sounds have a meaning; separating sounds into words
power and language and language and power
and power of language and power in language
what is very beautiful is that german distinguishes between words and words (as it offers two different plurals; for words that are coherent and words that are incoherent)
it's certainly much more difficult to switch between more than just two languages; i am quite glad that i did not speak to people in german, ever, when turning around to another person sitting at the same table, changing the language
and familiarity and to identify oneself with (and not do identify oneself with)
people wondering about the place you grew up in
people putting you into boxes, drawers
a category
working with and working against; affirming and reevaluating and rejecting, to prove wrong
having all the time in the world and things suddenly coming to an end; rediscovering, seeing a sea, a lake, a pond, a puddle, a pond, a lake, a sea of opportunities
all the fish; all the lines
the unknown; the known; making something your own, known (i'll be yours)
i will play the piano and maybe i will write a song (but everything in its time)
i will sew something (i am with a machine again)
i might start talking in either portuguese or spanish when i'm drunk (it used to happen with english only, but now there are mores options available) now
i want to nullify the gender (all the implications)
i will look through all the boxes (as long as i have a distance to all the things i had stored there) and separate myself from some and any and a few
i wish that i had taken more pictures (but at the same time i know why i didn't)
it's not a summary or a conclusion (it also does not describe, define itself by saying what it is not)
and, yes, it is weird on a high scale, ending relationships, cutting all the strings (no strings attached) from one day to another
it's more radical, the air way (even, when trains also get you to other places and the view is better; habitually)
time zone changed again (i did it on the computer and it felt strong)
how the place you're in affects your memory and how your memory works
and which information is accessible more easily and which is not
as always the clouds are white on top; they have become more and more the further into the north we got
i am working with texts and images and objects mostly (found, old, broken, visually interesting)
fact: i met someone who has a phone that makes gifs out of videos and puts them online immediately
#centraleurope #otherlife
