May 10, 2020
I admit it. I squirrel away photos like other people now do toilet paper. Though not just since Corona, but since ever. Interestingly however, it is that this little asshole of a virus led me to check out the numerous yellow Windows folders on my computer. Where photos of night expeditions to the stars, sunrises in deserts, and snow-covered mountains were just languishing. Images for which I traveled far and wide, got up awfully early in the morning, scratched my knee, and shivered with fear so great that I sprouted three new gray hairs.
So after almost three weeks of ten-hour shifts, it is done. So now I can present my little shop of wonderful moments and places for you to take away.
December 1, 2019
It is a couple of days before Christmas in 2018. When my uncle tells me that he's not going to his chemotherapy anymore. The side effects are just killing him. "And now?" I ask. "Nothing," he says. A little word. That means everything. It is May when I stumble into a motel in Montana, USA, after 30 hours on three airplanes. It is two minutes before midnight. I log my phone into the WiFi. The first message I get is that my uncle just passed away. It was this situation that ultimately led me to the decision to sell my Tiny House again after only nine months. To move in with my 95-year-old grandpa. Life. A roller coaster.
May 5, 2019
"You will never be able to get rid of it again!" The way they look at me. It's like I just slipped through wet cement. Admittedly, tattoos aren't for people who are unable to make radical decisions.
I drew my first draft when I was 14. Since then ten more motifs have been added. They are all telling a story about me. My life, my travels, my personality, my values. They are not only art and expression, but also memory, warning and encouragement - against fears, death, for dreams and as a book that is only finished when I am finished.
April 24, 2019
I am laying on the floor, my forehead pressed against the cold parquet floor, trying to not lose control completely. One cramp in my abdomen goes after the next. "I have to send you to the
hospital now," the nice doc says. Three days are following in which I mix up the hospital by being high from the gastroscopy, looking out for wifi desperatly and making the entire ward
Then the diagnosis: Ulcerative Colitis. The little sister of Crohn's Disease. Lifelong chronic bowel inflammation. Crying? That's something I can do when I'm dead. How I got up from the floor and started to fight my disease.
December 31, 2018
It's January 1, 2018. I'm sitting at the kitchen table drawing a melancholic picture of a cat next to a dripping candle. I don't have a job, nothing works out and I feel like shit.
Today is December 31, 2018. I have my own company, I have traveled for 11 weeks, broke up with my long-standing relationship, I have moved, I have found my soulmate. And only a few days before Christmas I bought a tiny home, into which I will move in early 2019. My euphoria-level is close to LSD. Who could have know that!? A chronology of madness.
December 24, 2018
It's a quarter to three in the middle of the night when my phone rings. It's my normal wake-up tone, but it feels like someone is screaming "LAST CHRISTMAS!" next to my ear. My friend from the
United States arrives at Charles de Gaulle Airport at 7 and I will surprise him there. I made a crazy poster and planned to take the metro to the main station and then the train to the airport at
about 5. Did not work out.
The result was a 2-mile-walk through Paris at night - with encounters of the third kind.
November 25, 2018
Somewhere between the clouds and the falling streams I knew it: When I come back, my life will break apart. Implode. For eight years I was with my boyfriend. We've had good times and crappy
And then you realize that your dream isn't the dream of someone else. And that you only have two options: to lie to yourself and stay, or to follow your inner call and go. A month ago, I took all my courage and left.
June 24, 2018
I can see a brimstone butterfly in front of me on the gravel path, before everything is going to be blurry. It couldn’t have been a more perfect funeral. For a woman who inspired and changed my life forever with her courage, her dauntlessness, her love, madness, wanderlust and finally the silent goodbye: My Granny Erika.
May 23, 2018
Munich. 70 degrees and a sunny day. Silvia and Thomas are pushing their bicycles into the street. The bikes look a little bit like packed camels. With two wheels instead of
two humps. Everything’s perfect for a little bike ride. It just goes from Munich to Tarifa. Andalusia. Spain. The southernmost point of mainland in Europe.
A story about finding back to nature and everything you've never dared to do before.
April 20, 2018
I met Maria first in spring 2016. There she was planning on studying abroad in New Zealand for a while. But in the end her trip went much further than just to "down under". What started as a semester abroad ended up as solo trip across Nepal. Right between colorful fabrics, snow-capped peaks of the Himalayas and great self-awareness.
April 7, 2018
I wish I could pack my bags immediately and go back on a plane. Or lock myself in my house to write a book about my adventure. But things like these are only possible in movies. In reality, I was surrounded by bills for my health insurance, my rent and worries about my CV. Only few people asked “How has your trip been?” anymore. Most of them wanted to know: “What are you going to do now?”
A story about a hard way back from adventure to everyday-life.
March 29, 2018
Indigo and her dog Zelda are living full time in a truck they converted into a camper. “We used to live in a converted van, but it bit the bullet and now we have the camper,” she tells me. “Altogether we’ve been living this lifestyle for a couple of years now, and I stand firm in the belief that it’s the best decision that I’ve ever made.” She did not need to say it out loud. Seeing her sparkling eyes would have been enough.
March 4, 2018
Colorful and tiny are the tents nestling between the massive rocks. Palms are embellishing the background instead of wallpapers. Stars are glowing instead of a lamp. Right next to the scenery bicycles are standing in the dust packed with huge bags. Lutz Bothe and his friends are on a bike ride. Not across the lovely Netherlands but the Arabic desert country Oman. With their bikes, wild animals, a lost passport and a car racing on the beach at night.