Ceasefire

It has been one of those days that not only flirts like spring, but makes love like summer. Appropriately undressed I spent the day on the balcony in a bikini replanting the dried out herb and vegetable garden. Salvaging to the best of my ability the grasps-of-straws that might revive and discarding the unidentifiable tangles that rightly died. The difficulty in determining which tangles might bloom, remains on my mind.

Sitting again on the balcony in a bit of an anticlimax I observe all the empty, dark surfaces. Still uncertain whether my efforts were in vain. Taking a step back I remind myself that it is indeed still flirting time. Secretively, planted seeds lie dormant, awaiting affectionate sunshine and caring water to penetrate their protection. The battle is on ceasefire. Somethings are worth waiting for.

A couple of days ago an old friend showed up for a visit. Once we were in the same place at the same time. Now in different places, doing different things. It is odd how time remains even after it has passed. During a few days I showed him around downtown at the very few sites perhaps not really worth seeing, but at least kept us busy in between food and coffee. As we strolled next to the river once again, the irony hit me – that the thing Magdeburg is famous for is actual vacuum (check out local celebrity Otto-von-Guericke).

In the late evenings we sat in the kitchen talking in that intimate way only a kitchen at midnight allows. About parents, the difficulties of love, career choices, and about even more people we know getting married.

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