This time I try to write in english. Every word is like to stilt. I have no feeling for the flow of the words. I don’t know how to place the words, so that it feels like a wavelike composition, with the peaks and the vales.
I feel like going on ice. Every step seems risky. I have the feeling to slip and fall on my back. And then? I have no idea how to get up, to find the right words to hang on them so that I may get up and walk again. I’m lieing on my back, helpless like a turtle. Maybe I need someone to help me up. Someone who take my hand and leads me. Someone who knows the words and there meaning. Somebody who knows the flow of the words. Someone who knows how to place them.
But now, I’m there, on the ground an looking up to sky. Seeing the clouds which are floating away and leave the blue sky behind. And I know. It doesn’t matter if I’m able to play with the english words like the pianist plays the keys. The only thing which matters, is the fun to play with it, like a child who is playing with a ball.