I am a thousand winds that blow



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Do not stand at my grave and weep I am not there,
I do not sleep;
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glint on the snow;
I am the sunlight on ripened grain;
I am the gentle rain.
When you waken in the morning’s hush
I am the swift uplifting rush of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave.
I am not there.
I did not die.
For everything beautiful that you see
will bring a memory of me.


1932 by Mary Elizabeth Frye.
In loving memory of Noël.

Yours truly


Transient traces



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Sein und Tun und mit jedem Schritt Spuren hinterlassen, die Welt verändern. Das scheint uns so relevant und nachhaltig. Wie gut tut es da, zwischendurch in aller Ruhe zu beobachten, wie die Spuren davon ziehen und sich die Welt dahinter wieder glättet.
Ich wünsche dir einen wundervollen Sonntag.


To be and to act, leaving traces with every step we take, changing the world. This seems so relevant and lasting. How healing it is, to see every now and then, as our traces move on and the world becomes whole again soon after.
I wish you a wonderful Sunday.


Yours truly

Raise your eyes to the ceiling



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Spuren N°212 – hebe deinen Blick zur Decke. Dort mag selbst an einer simplen Stubentüre ein kleines, vergängliches Wunder auf dich warten. Wie ein Lächeln eines Menschen, der dich aus einer anderen Welt anschaut.

Traces N ° 212 – raise your eyes to the ceiling. Even on a simple room-door there might wait a little, transient wonder for you. Like a smile of someone who looks at you from a world beyond ours.

Yours truly