This melancholic feeling you can get from beauty. Maybe especially from beauty connected to the past. Moments you will not experience a second time. Moments that haven’t felt as happy as they look. It makes me to almost not wanting to look. Yet I can’t take my eyes off. And Summer. Those precious three months you feel like you have to make the most of. The constant heat induced brainfog, always on the edge between excitement and collapse. It’s a state of exception. Time melts to one big lump. Where did it go? Yet everything feels heavy and slow. We constantly search for relief in cold drinks, ice cream, lakes, oceans, air conditioning, fans and stuff that is strong enough to move air with. Is this constant alternation of pain and relief what makes us loving summer so much? Are good things generally only good because of the feeling of relief and salvation afterwards? Marathons, sex, vacations…

While everyone appreciates the cozy feeling of being inside and binge watching old tv-shows while its cold and rainy outside, we feel guilty when we hide from social events in summer. But actually there is a special quality in hiding from the heat, closing the windows and curtains and watching tv-shows in underwear and eating ice-cream in bed.

(I first wrote this text for this entry that took me forever and was kind of forced and I just couldn’t surmount myself and press “publish”. So here comes a second text from one of my rare diary entries that has nothing to do with the pictures)

DIARY 1
For weeks I didn’t have vertigo but I can’t think of anything else since days.  So that I’m almost wishing for it to come and free me from those thoughts, from the anxiety and uncertainty. To make me unconscious again, free me of every decision. If it is there, there is only it and that brings a state of clarity. Another part of my thoughts is always with a child that could potentially grow in my belly and here as well I wish the decision would be taken from me. That it would just happen and I had to cope with it. How weak to wish to be so unfree.
Yesterday at the supermarket I dropped a butter I didn’t plan on buying. It was crushed and mashy afterwards. As tense as I’m used to be in supermarkets I just put it back in the shelf and rushed away. But now I’m thinking I should’ve bought the butter because nobody else will and in the end it will be going to waste. I will look for it the next time.