morning thoughts 24.3.

I am easiliy obsessed with studying the art of being human.
This morning I took my daily subway ride to another day of the placement which would probably leave me miserably walking around Hamburgs beautiful warenhouse quarter during my midbreak.I was focusing on my book instead of nervously scrolling the facebook newsfeed up and down. Well this time somebody gloriously strange appeared in front of my seat. Not only was he reading a nice looking novel from the cheap section as well, but he also had to too log legs to fit into those old wagons. His reddish, curly hair was not quiet awake yet and he seemed to be such a thinker that in the deepness of his thoughts, he would not feel the freezing cold of this wintery morning. That young man only wore a tree green T-shirt and held some tiny jacket for future rain. He was so tall, he seemed way too scandinavian to be german. And of course he certainly did not notice me. So I could no longer focus an the book thief, but imagening where he would have woken up this morning, probably kissing a beautiful scout girl – as they both, not quiet ready, wondered off into daylight.
He might have been the best of average inside, but I still realised the magic of being somebody’s human inspiration, that daily sparkle or the wondering in someones thoughts. If only I would look up more to see whats hidden behind skin, so naturally.


morning thoughts 12.2.

She was a refuge of reality, hiding in between the pages of her book. From time and fear.
Until she realised that this fog of human beings still were the greatest inspiration that stole her breath this morning.
There was a fine man in his 30s, struggling with day but who had discovered the thoughts of his child were the ones that brought him happiness.
He wore a head like one of those French farmers, was covered in a black coat and his first grey hair. The only shiny thing about him was a scarf of sunshine’s colour and the smile of his little girl, discovering the name of train stations. She had the best time confusing all passengers by calling out any of those like a tiny priest at half past 8am. That kid had one great morning and thanks to her joyous soul,
I realised that I could have that too, if I only chose to let life in.