Will I EVER Reach My Destiny?

Will I EVER reach my destiny? (Of course I know that I should speak of destination... :-)
These days you hear strange tones from my bow window room: I'm practising the pronunciation of some places. I knew about Leicester, Clapham and Greenwich - and a few more - but am still astonished how I ever I made it to "Ho-bun", "Tott-num" and "Marly-bone".



But then: my pronunciation is always a risky one ... n'est-ce pas, Tom? - on the other hand: it peps up my conversation, so mysterious...





 

A Madonnina for me

Dear You,
last Sunday I went to a little flea market in Berlin - and was vexed to see that I was late and them all packing up*. It was half past three - and at 4 pm they have to be off.
So I just did a hurried round - and then, at the very last stall, I found this little Italian madonna.
As I "collect" shop window mannequins with my camera, I saw that it resembles puppets that were made in the Forties or even earlier. She is tiny: about 25 cm height, 15 cm width - and has two impressed signatures, but I have to wait till my Italian friend Gloria, "la mia insegnante", comes back from her holidays in Italy to read what it is. I think there were lots of them in Italy at their time, and it will be nothing special. (I bought it for very little money - one advantage of coming late).
But I instantly fell in love: I love her aura - the expression of the faces is fine - and she exudes serenity.
I found a wonderful place for her on the wall of the bowfront of our flat.
And if someone thinks it a bit "kitschig" - I don't care!

 -

* PS: When I look at this sentence - the grammar - am I right to believe I should stop seeing "Ashes to Ashes" for a while, because glorious Mr. Gene Hunt's dialect dazzles my (broken) English?

...life is just a bowl of cherries...

...and if it isn't, I go to the market and buy some... draw them ... eat them... feel much better. 

And put on my blue sued shoes... 

... take a walk on the wild side through the Royal Park Charlottenburg, filled with bizarre flowers, 

meet a Cupid,   

and the Linden drone on and on that summer proceeds. 

Life is sweet, and all in all we have great choices. 

and when I look at all that bliss I have my head in the clouds again. 

Tired.

I'm a bit tired. I know: that is not a good way to start a post.
I don't write on my blog about politics. Which does not mean that I don't care.
When the Optimistic Existentialist asked in his last post: "Should we really lose faith?" I was on the optimistic side - and still am: I think life has not become worse. It was always tough (and sometimes very much more), but now it seems to the generation after WWII that it is nearer to our doorsteps.
I feel so deeply with the victims. Their next-of-kin.

Beautiful Monday - and Jonathan Spottiswoode

Dear You, 

I had a beautiful week-end, and I hope you too! A friend of mine, Jonathan Spottiswoode (half English, half American) and a friend from Hildesheim, Matti Müller (who has two other bands) gave two concerts here in Berlin - wonderful! 

Here is a taster from one CD that I love very much (I think I've already mentioned it before, but, as Mae West said: "Too much of a good thing can be wonderful", and: I really love Mondays). 

And if you are in London or New York: Jonathan often performs there. 

Shivering in Hull? (Warning to "very conservative children": Film will show painted naked people)

I just  read a book by Virginia Ironside, very amusing, about getting older (and the fun of it). Included is a chapter called: "Boring for Britain."
Now I found another hobby people can indulge in: Shivering for Britain.
See: I discovered an article in the Guardian: more than 3.ooo people in East Yorkshire this morning took part in an Art project in Hull, by photographer Spencer Tunick. Naked, their bodies were painted blue and green, (and maybe the the cold at 3 am has deepened the hue of blue?). One man, 80 now, is part of his installations for the 20th time.

"He said he did get a little chilly during the shoot, but added it was nothing compared to Tunick’s installation in Dublin in the summer of 2008. “That was frightening,” he said. “My children are very conservative. They don’t think it’s totally proper to have their father’s butt on a museum wall, but I love it.” Janssen said it will be the last time he takes part in one of Tunick’s works."  The Guardian 

Imagine: the shot took about 3 hours!

Change of Perspective

Sometimes you get stuck in a rut. (Or I, to be more precise).
Miss the forest for the trees.
After an exhibition on "Harry Graf Kessler - Flaneur through Modern Era" we needed a coffee. Harry was such a restless Dandy, knowing so many  people - Isadora Duncan, Josephine Baker, Henry van der Velde, Hugo von Hofmannsthal, Nietzsche, to name just a few. He connected people. Diaries of 10.000 pages - a man full of seemingly contradictions, political and cultural,
So we sat in front of Starbucks with full view of the Brandenburger Tor (between the columns tarpaulins - behind them the fan park for the European Football Championship) and the sun was shining like mad. No shade, no parasols.
But I wanted a coffee (so much that I even accepted Starbucks').
And so I changed perspective.
I had an umbrella in my handbag - and used it the Japanese way: saved!
I'd never expected that at this stage of my life I would often have to say: "...for the first time in my life!" Surprise! (though the whole last year sometimes teeth-gnashingly, wiping away a tear).
Voluntarily or not: after doing it I suddenly feel - vulnerable in a pleasant way, alive.
Side benefit: I see solutions. So I say:
"If you brexit, my friends - I'll change perspective. You leave - so I will come. In August."
Looking forward! Westward Ho!