the chill of fresh snow


Sorry once more, German readers. I’m still walking/talking/thinking/breathing in English…

Photo: Lily Lotus Willowtree

One of my ex-teachers from music uni has been diagnosed with a rare form of blood cancer this week. Fortunately enough, her morale is up thanks to lots of Higher Support (that ’serious doctors‘ won’t bother to take seriously …).

She says her eyes have been opened for the sweetness and goodness of normal people in everyday life. They bring her flowers and hugs, and I feel her surrounded by a lot of kindness.

So it’s that time of the year again…

I’m having mute dreams, clouds above telling me I’m going to die. And people cry for me, burying their dripping faces in my arms as I try to hug them all at once. As I wonder why it is them who cry and not me, it occurs to me that I would like to live, actually. I remember something, as I stand there in a noiseless room, filled with the thump of my heartbeat. I haven’t had enough of my life just yet, but it’s too late.

I wake up to the need to be comforted by a child’s touch; to swallow the world through my eyes; to celebrate birthdays every single day of the year.

As I flip the pages of the Anatomy book I’m studying now, I’m in awe before the intricacy and complexity of our bodies. At the same time, I don’t think I’ve ever been more aware of their frailty. Thought by thought by breath by breath by heartbeat by heartbeat I want to let it all go, this burdening construct they call LILY.

And then I built a big snowman on the balcony with bare hands – it occurred to me I haven’t felt the chill of fresh snow on my skin enough yet.

(And here comes my favorite of these past weeks:)

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