Words

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Cascades

does not fall.remembers. A thread undone, a breath unspilled,a sound collapsingnot breaking, but becoming smthng new. grey echoes shatter in slow motion,spilling light into places unnamed,a tide that never reaches shore,a river that forgets the mouth that bore it. What is it to descend without landing?To dissolve without vanishing?To stretch without ever having been whole? Somewhere, between ...

Appreciate Flaws

The crack is where the light lingers,where the silence bends,where the thread unravels just enoughto let the hidden scapes slip through. Nothing perfect was ever real.Nothing flawless was ever free. A note stumbles, a rhythm fractures,light folds into itself—not broken, but honest,not lost, but finding. Chaos hums beneath the surface,the pulse of something inside,a truth too jagged to ...
Surreal art photograph of a human figure draped in flowing pleated fabric resembling a betta fish, set against a teal background.

Truth does not wait

Truth does not wait.Truth does not soften itself for you. Truth is the blade that asks nothing,the tide that does not turn.It will carve you open,pulling the breath out of your ribs,leave you standing in the hollowwhere suspected certainty once flourished. What will you exchange for knowing?The warmth of comfort, the illusion of stillness?Will you let it take your name,your shape, your ...
Maggowitsch sits on a chair partially submerged in water, his eyes closed, resting his head on one hand. The water reflects him as the golden sunlight casts long shadows. A poetic quote overlays the image: "When closing your eyes, what do you see, what do you listen."

Stille

Es geht immer um uns selbst,nicht in der Bedeutung von „Ich“,sondern in dem, was uns tief bewegt,was uns in diesem Moment wirklich berührt. Die anderen bleiben Spiegel,die wahre Arbeit,die wahre Suche,die findet im Inneren statt, immer. Es ist nicht die Frage, was andere tun,sondern was in uns ist,wenn wir still werden,wenn wir uns auf das besinnen,was hinter den Worten liegt,hinter den ...
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