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What does gender mean anyway?
Who says you’re male or female who have to behave like this and that and leave that and this?
People say, right. You say, aha.
Okay, okay, blahblah, keep believing whatever.
And stay in your golden cage of restriction.
But what if all this is an illusion?
What if the idea of our social roles is a fake to keep us within bounds?
What if we could take off our well woven structure of identification
like a grey coat which has never really suited anyway?
And to life comes the naked shining truth of the inner self.
What if we could wipe out the worldly thoughts
our narrow minds had whispered to us in our nightmares,
because mankind, as it’s known, can’t grasp our real possibilities – yet.
What if we could wake up and  free ourselves from the gravity of ratio,
feel what this is about:
Cross borders,
live in peace,
do whatever we want to do, be whatever we want to be, no,
be what we really are.
BREATHE
SHINE
PLAY
FLY
?

We can.
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Hach. Das Leben ist manchmal, als breite es sich vor mir aus wie ein Teppich, frohlockend:

‘Komm spring und räkel Dich!’

Und ich falle. Und es trägt mich davon.

///

Sometimes, life spreads itself in front of me like a carpet, exulting:

‘Come on, jump and loll around.’

And I let myself fall. And it takes me away.

Ich nehm Dich mit auf meinem Sturm
durch den dichten Sternentunnel
der sich so sicher anfühlt
weil Farbe die Lichtlöcher füllt
wo wir uns drehen
bis uns schwindelig ist
von außen bleibt draußen nach innen
spinnen wir unser Netz
lassen uns fallen und fangen
wickeln uns ein und wälzen uns im Weichen
seufzend vor Wonne
ohne gestern und morgen
sondern mit seichten Worten wie
‘alles ist gut,
solange wir nur
zusammen sind’
für den Moment
bleibt alles draußen und drin
wo wir alleine sind
öffnet sich das weiße Tor.
Und ich setz dich ab
und schlüpfe wieder davon.
Vielen Dank für den Flug.
Mach’s gut.

(Fotos taken while preparing for a dance gig. Next show will be on Friday here.)

We love love love the other half of the 24 hrs.
When sun goes down it withtakes the outerworld.
The worldly templates
crawl under the blankets with the people´s voices.
Now that reality is sleeping,
what´s it all about?
We can´t see the street signs anyway.
We don´t want to go straight anymore.
We can go left, no right. No left AND right,
draw curvy lines and stirring loops.
until we reach the woods.
Here in the blurry black
we discard our coats and slip in our current bodies.
We choose
the pixie, the bear, the lion, the circus pony.
to dance and fly and whirl with the wind,
And we loose
the past, the future and our – so called – selves
to flow just with what happens next.
We are the purest we
that could ever be.

Sometime the sun peeps over the horizone,
and the first voice resounds
like a wake-up-call for ordinariness.
As soon as the next 24 hrs begin
it´s all gone.
Wiped away by the everyday eraser.
And we forget about our – so felt – selves again.

The only thing that makes us wonder
is a leaf that sticks to the sole of our shoe.

So which two halves of the 24 hrs is reality?