The past few week, maybe months, I have been increasingly fascinated by the concept of dissolving one’s own individuality. Similarly to how a stone on the beach gets softer and more uniform with repeated caresses from sand and waves. Hard…
Author: Puzzle Pieces
Not quite right
Sometimes things need to be said, only there is no elegant way of doing it. You struggle with words that does not seem quite right and when it all comes down to it, people hear what you say not what…
The mystery of the missing socks: a sort of love story for the misfits
We have all been there. Laundry has been done, and after tirelessly matching all the socks, only two are left and they clearly do not to belong together. It makes no sense, yet it happens all the time. Anne was…
At a cafe in Jodhpur, India
The sun sets in a blaze of passionate orange that within minutes turns into the violent passion of purple. Me and Daffodil are in Jodhpur, India, and after one of those perfect days
Building a boat in the desert
The days are slow. Each second tics on like torture. Often as I look at the time I realise that only minutes passed, not hours or lifetimes as it feels. An empty house with nothing to fill that is growing…
A rainy day in Bozen
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.…