Text Nr. 1

His palms red, my shoes red.

I love him.

The moment is recognized, no turning back.

Come!

I have nothing and everything. I’m the richest person I know.

12 cm higher, I am nervous, my mischmasch has its perfect stage.

Inspiring myself with myself.

Fluffy white baggage around my hips, much older than me.

This is not a narrative. It doesn’t need to make sense.

Come! The spirit says come!

Everyday new, everyday nervous. I am here but not here.

Eternal dance, eternal breathe.

My wallet is full, my cup overflows.

Me today and me tomorrow.

Standing on a cliff. 

Wind is always a good sign. Vital Movement.

Nothing remains, it’s just the beginning.

The part where I cry.

Why trust, a philosopher? My own thoughts are the best ones.

Excited skin, charging vibrations, solid steps.

What the heck, LETS GO!

This is a political statement. I am an optimist!

Swinging is the coolest thing. If you want your heart to jump, swing!

Suspension is a lengthened high point. You cannot fall, you just do.

Falling is the coolest thing.

I am wild, as free as my little finger.

I have more passion in one nostril, than many lifetimes put together.

I am not boasting.

A sword is sharp and ready, no turning back.

Consequence, consequence, consequence. I’m ready.

Tired is not tired, it’s just something I’m thinking. 

Come! Let’s go to the spiritual place.

No blinking!

Its holds you and me. I´m not lying.

It’s there forever…

Vulnerable.

Text Nr 2.

The garden in the back of the moon

Fragment‘s unseen, yet experienced

All stories, all memories

Revealed through a silver milk cloud from the hidden

space behind

Empty, loaded

Overwhelmingly nourishing

Text Nr 3.

A drawing force into the back

The air is different at altitude

There are gentle undulations that invite you to look at things from a new perspective

Electrified

Small shivers at the base of my skull

Each small hair receives stimulations to dance on and with my body

I show you what I cannot see myself

An expensive gift of transparency in the hidden space

I am, we are, no front, no back. 

Whole.

I grow my garden in the back of the moon

Each seed breathed upon from a cloud of silver mist

Seeping from between my shoulder blades

My breastbone carries, transports all memories

Sucking on emotions from behind

I close my eyes, I remember

I can feel the emptying and the loading simultaneously

What do I know? What do I understand?

As I move, I drag one thousand light years from behind me and shine them in full glory for all to see

For those who wish to see

A secret ingredient of full presence, beginning in an inner landscape

Like a center, rearranging itself constantly