why didn't i post much here anymore?

when you walk through the desert your eyes are if no use, your ears will not help you much, words are meaningless. there may be music in your mind to help you walking on, and you have to stick to your own source of energy, the secret water of your being. so i didn't paint, i didn't write, i worked and lived. most times ... “Sometimes fate is like a small sandstorm that keeps changing directions. You change direction but the sandstorm chases you. You turn again, but the storm adjusts. Over and over you play this out, like some ominous dance with death just before dawn. Why? Because this storm isn't something that blew in from far away, something that has nothing to do with you. This storm is you. Something inside of you. So all you can do is give in to it, step right inside the storm, closing your eyes and plugging up your ears so the sand doesn't get in, and walk through it, step by step. There's no sun there, no moon, no direction, no sense of time. Just fine white sand swirling up into the sky like pulverized bones. That's the kind of sandstorm you need to imagine. An you really will have to make it through that violent, metaphysical, symbolic storm. No matter how metaphysical or symbolic it might be, make no mistake about it: it will cut through flesh like a thousand razor blades. People will bleed there, and you will bleed too. Hot, red blood. You'll catch that blood in your hands, your own blood and the blood of others. And once the storm is over you won't remember how you made it through, how you managed to survive. You won't even be sure, in fact, whether the storm is really over. But one thing is certain. When you come out of the storm you won't be the same person who walked in. That's what this storm's all about.” ― Haruki Murakami, Kafka on the Shore

breakdown

rain and rain yesterday , the home of the basque people in fog and rain, black soil and coal shimmering through the already dark mountains. rain today with only short interims, eg exactly as long as i had to wait for the towing services. my reliable bmw took a rest

Rundfahrt Bad Wörishofen-Kressbronn-Meersburg-Otterswang

What is there to say? I am a zebra or: am I a zebra ? There is somebody far away , a stroboscope. Zebras are here, there...it depends. It depends on the stroboscope and on the Zebra itself...normally, what is: normally? Now, maybe all this is dangerous, and somebody is going round stealing stroboscopes: this is bad then, very bad. back to candles and pudding...
This was the part about Tel Aviv.
A journey in my head...

The other part is about a thermal bath, Bad Wörishofen, and about the journey home via some distractions...rain, sun, Lake Konstanz...

"April is the cruellest month., mixing memory and desire...", T.S. Eliot

(quoted from memory..^^)

Gutopia

http://gutopia.de/index.php/sw/neue-projekte/174-zwischenwelten http://gutopia.de//components/com_icegallery/view.php?popup=1&refer=0&Itemid=487&imgid=470&q=bfaccb9cca6552b2f39a1436353be00a