writing is fun
Since I can remember, I always wrote stories, escaped into my own fantasyworld and enjoyed creating poems. Now, I'm working on a real mystery novel, and I love it. However....since I'm full of fantasy, I could easily write more than one book at
once, but the trick is...to limit myself just to do one book at a time, with one plot preferably (but many hidden clues of course) and not too much details on topics, I love to write about too. A real challenge thus...
In the meantime, I will remain
writing small stories and fantasies, and share them with you on this page.
To become an alcoholivic….
Let me tell you the story of an alcoholivic….It started so nicely and innocent; growing some olive trees, get the oil from the mill in exchange for the olives you brought them. Every year, our harvest grew, and also every year we saw, what a
‘’mess’’ was brought in by others; rotten, sulfur treated, damaged olives and so on. This could not turn out into good olive oil.
But you have to think straight, we have no money (olive) tree’s in our garden; to produce
our own olive oil; way too expensive. But in 2012, the option became feasible, and since we harvested over 100 kg/year, it seemed a logical choice.
But actually, this was not what I wanted to tell you. Just let me have a sip or two. Of the
port I mean. Because the bottle needs to be emptied. To be used for botteling the olive oil later on. Cheerio!... So let me proceed with this story. What started as an innocent and fun idea to grow our own olive trees to get oil from it, deteriorated
quickly to a very serious situation. And the results were not foreseen at all…
Because…if you are going to produce your own olive oil, you like to have some nice bottles for it, can you imagine? Little nice ones, dark, handsome design
and not too expensive. Piece of cake; find yourself a shop is easy peasy. Well, it ain’t. The bottles were either too large or small, too light or too expensive or whatever. Until my beloved other half thought about a bottle, who might be around
somewhere. And yes, there it was; a beautiful, dark green port bottle, watermark in it, just what I imagined for our olive oil!
But, one bottle is not enough. So – and now this is where the trouble started – we decided to use port
bottles to bottle our olive oil. And hence, we would save the bottles. Over the past years however, we only used maybe 1-2 bottles of port, mainly for cooking (sauces) and occasionally for an aperitif, but this had to change now. We had to get bottles
and most important, they had to become EMPTY! So here, the bottles came in. Hold on a sec, just pouring myself another glass. …Skol! Where was I? O yes, the bottles. Every day we have to drink port. Because we need the bottles. One bottle = 750 ml.,
for approx.. 20 liters of oil we need – just have me get a sip or two, to count this – approx.. 24 bottles… Within a month..because after one month, the oil needs to be bottled. Hence the bottles…pfff..
And so it became
a fact, that this lovely couple started to become alcoholives…if you understand what I mean…and just for the only reason, that we are producing our own olive oil ‘’bless you’’! We are just glad, that saffron did
not have any nasty side effects; on the contrary; using a bit more of that, is good for a lot of things, possibly also against alcoholivismn – the one who has invented this word must have been either very drunk or terribly sober - let me have another
Ps: fortunately, this is only a fiction story. Because there are many other ways, to bottle/storage olive oil….a toast to you!
Words of wisdom
They cannot take away our self-respect if we do not give it to them (M. Gandhi)
Even the longest journey begins with a single step (Confucius)
To remember is a way of meeting (K. Gibran)
One day of undisturbed ''doing nothing''
is one day of inmortality (Chinese)
He who speaks much, does not hear much (Armenian)
Not the destiny is of importance, but the journey to it (Chinese)
If you loose your path, then you start to learn it (African)
A book without
an introduction is like a body without soul (Hebrew)
If it is not "here and now", what do "where and when" matter? (African)
Go on, travel, and you will see and meet them; sit down and they will come to you (African)
Feeding the ambition
in your heart is like carrying a tiger under your arm (Chinese)
Fantasy is the bridge to reality (Arabic)
It is only through the eyes of others that we can see our own faults the best (Chinese)
If what you hunger for, does not happen,
learn to hunger for what happens (Arabic)
“Writers live twice.”
For me, living just once – but well – is enough, no need to overdue it….and this one sounds just like me:
“I don’t need an alarm
clock. My ideas wake me up .” —Ray Bradbury, WD
Maybe he comes tomorrow, but I guess, that’s just a dream,
Maybe they let him go, 'cause I feel so much pain.
As young as he is, and
a life still ahead,
What could I wish more for him, not thinking of death.
Maybe he comes tomorrow, maybe even today,
Maybe he'll never come, but I can't cry
I have a dream
No, its not ‘’that’’ dream! I was walking up a path, through mountains, beautiful, blooming flowers around me, birds singing and sun shining. Up to a little station of a mountain train. The one, you see often in Switzerland.
I get in (no idea if I had money, but that doesn’t matter since it is a dream), and off he goes. The little train I mean. It stops and I get out. A long small hall, with windows to see outside on mij right hand side. As I walk on, on my left side, there
is a small pond and some beachside with soft sand. The path still goes on, no idea where it leaves me. Watching the water, I see some wrinkling of the surface. And a frog gets out. Not a small one as you might think, no, a big one, like a Garfield cat. And
another one. And another one. I’m not afraid of frogs, I kind of like them, but that big? A bit too much for me.Back to the station, I think. One is coming alongside, and bites me in the arm, and another one is attempting to bite my leg. ENOUGH IS ENOUGH!
I wake up, sweating. If those frogs would have been sitting in our bedroom and eating the damn mosquitos (because that is what they usually do), we could sleep without ventilator…..
A wise owl
Look at him, sitting on his branch, this great, wise owl, high above the ground, observing, quiet, watching everything around him
It seems, nothing can disturb him, however…..suddenly the wind came up, he lost his balance and fell down
On the ground , he sat distracted, how could this be? How could this have happened? It was certainly
not the place to be for a wise, eminent owl like him.
If he wanted to get up again to his favourite spot, he had to get his feathers back into shape, it was such a mess, look at it!
It took him quite a while, to get things ready, and then he
flew, slowly, branch by branch, up to his favourite, the one he enjoyed so much
He was still startled, how was it possible, despite his wisdom and knowlegde, that some wind had caught him by surprise!
I can’t believe this happened to me,
he murmured, a little bit annoyed, this certainly doesn’t suit me!
It happened that a little sparrow sat nearby and heard him and she said, ‘sometimes pride and wisdom is not always enough to conquer things in life, there
are some other things you will need ‘
‘You have to learn to cope with events like this in the best possible way, I myself learned when to hide for winds like this!’
Some truth is in the words , the wise owl thought, although
I'm wise and know lots of things, I rather watch out for signs of wind in the near future…
….and both sparrow and owl closed their eyes, enjoying the warmth of the evening sun…
a blooming flower, a hand that gives,
someone to wait for you, full of warmth
happy together, a feeling to be one
without words knowing what we mean
enjoying, discovering, are you coming along?
silence, space and freedom for both
this is really true love