The sensation of the uncontrollable muscle contraction that rushed over my skin as a water wave surprised me in its expected lack of brutality. Days of postponing a meeting that could, if not would, send a heart attack from nervous…
Familiarly fucked-up
Due to a series of somethings, I find myself back in Bolzano, back in an academic setting, and back in an emotional stressed out stage that is so familiar that I wish I could transform into a fish. On several…
The Irish border backstop Frankendoodle
I’m lulling forward in a bus between Dublin and Belfast. Behind the bus the sun is patiently calling it a day and in front grey rain clouds gather ominously on the sunset ombre. Taking a 24 hour break from Dublin,…
The time I was mistaken for a prostitute in Dublin
Yesterday evening I had a WTF?! experience of completely outrageous proportions. I was mistaken for a prostitute. Now, you probably thinking that I was wearing my usual miniskirts, high heels and maybe my oh-so-cool black hat (which would be no…
On why I write again
Puzzle Pieces in motion is over five years old. I started it back in the day when I was lonely sitting in a sad-looking building in a small town in Germany asking myself what the hell I was doing there.…
Merry-go-(a)round the Sun once again
Next to my computer the coffee cup stands stained due to repeated use during the day and it is the second time I reheat this particular batch in the microwave. In the fridge rests the remains of the cake from…
Three lines to call for divine intervention
If you let it, travel invites you to interesting meetings. Meetings that teach you something about other people, about the world and, more surprisingly, about yourself. My previous search for purpose and an smidgen of inner peace was long ago…
Trying to catch a break or the almost trek to Everest Base Camp
–Desperate to catch a break, the only break I seem to catch is that which breaks me in two. — I woke up to dreams of Mt. Everest. In my nocturnal delusion Dexter had, to my surprise, decided that I…
India: A Firsttimer’s Impression
It stinks. And not in some metaphorical “it is a bad place” but in the most brutal of literal senses. It smells really bad. Absolutely everywhere. Spice bowls and burning incense are randomly placed at every corner intended to hide…
A Song of Rain and Fire
Visiting Varanasi, the Hindu city of Death I never feared death much. Death being either the end as the complete obliteration of the senses, or the beginning in the sense of a reaching a new world, a paradise through the mercy of a divine,…