میروم ز دیده ها نهان شوم. میروم که گریه در نهان کنم

 The gloomy days of winter have started, and I have to wrestle myself out of bed every morning at six. After five-six hours of an intense very demanding German course, I carry myself to work every day and only get back home around 21:00. This is how I am trying to survive the winter this year: by overworking humbly with high energy and "good vibes only"!

Frankly, I have no other choice. My visa time in Germany is quickly coming to an end, and I urgently need to find a job or some source of money in the next few months. Towering waves of anxiety, stress, and frustration are crashing against the doors every second, and I spend every ounce of my remaining energy to keep that barrier locked tight.

This inner turmoil is not what one sees upon visiting me. My outward persona is more like a happy, determined, creative soul radiating kindness and hope to those around me.

*
It is Thursday night. We are deep into our theatre course. The challenge for the evening is for each person to spontaneously join the current scene and completely transform its essence through their individual act.

Jan joins Kati and Adri and changes their friendly scene into a long queue of people waiting for toilet. Robert joins the scene and changes it into a fun concert. Ajit joins as a photographer who wants to take a picture of this happy family gathering.

I am the last one to add myself. With no premeditated idea, I just jump onto the stage and let myself being guided by the inner impulses.

"This is a robbery! Everyone lie down on the floor and throw your damned phones to me!" I scream, holding my imaginary gun. I shout and shout and shout, and make the whole group act exactly the way I want. For God's sake, I am the angry one with the gun in my hand!

*
I head home with a strong rush of dopamine still pumping through my veins. I am still capable of surprising myself! Wow!

I caught myself with a huge smile on my face when I got inside the house and captured the moment.

Life is undeniably hard, but it remains, remarkably, fun.

du tuts mir nie mehr weh

 It’s an afternoon in the early days of fall.

J. texted me to ask if “alles gut” with me. Since Hamas’s attack and the ongoing genocide, as two bullheaded pro-Palestinian and pro-Israeli souls, we’ve been stabbing each other again and again with anger and shame; then trying to rescue the deep, meaningful friendship between us. A friendship I gave up on saving long ago — but good old J. is the helplessly hopeful, presumptuous type.

On my way to class, I pass a broken drawer abandoned on the street. In its mirror, I catch my reflection — my broken style — and I’m surprised at how deeply Berlin has already crept under my skin.

Same evening, on stage, I randomly improvise the role of a drunk veteran delaying her return home. I end up on the surgery table, trying to stitch up an imaginary wounded tiger — one that has devoured several people before being shot and brought to us.
Me, drunk; the tiger, furious — soon I’m rolling on the floor, my hand bleeding because it has eaten half of it.

From the audience, young BSW Jan jumps on stage, wraps his real belt around my arm to stop the imaginary bleeding.
“And cut,” says the tutor.
We step out of the scene, and he whispers close to me,
“Du bist toll. Zweifel nicht!”

گفتی بیا و سر بکش از استکان من

لاجرعه سرکشیدم و گس شد زبان من

گفتم بیا و دست بکش از دهان من

این زهرمار عرضه ندارد شکر شود

Tirishko

 Laugh louder!

Let me remember how does it feel to be in your home.

to the Livingston seagull

 "He seems like a shallow calm fresh lake. Don't overthink and enjoy the calm nice water. You have been stuck into a crazy storm" Pearlita says, "You know he was a good guy, but he could be too much. You need a rest from all those drama". 

She is right. But no, she has no idea. It is not that you "could be" too much, but you could not be "just enough". You were always too silent, too talkative, too excited, too sad, too lucky, too paranoid, too angry, too rational, too lazy, too hyperactive. You were too much from the first second I saw you, sitting on the ground in the middle on nowhere drinking your family-size Cola and staring to empty space around you, to the last seconds when you were too high to stop laughing and speak properly on the videocall. But you know what? You were my best friend, my asshole hater bestie. You were MY too much, and I missed you as hell. 

or whatever you wish for

 Cannot say he was the last person,

but among the ones,

he was the most prominent.

As they said before.

Does salt speed up healing?

 The answer to this question is YES. this is because salt water helps to clean and promote healing by the process called osmosis. Salt forces liquid in cells to move out of the body when it comes in contact with them.

So let us roll upon the hill of bloody salt to heal all these stabs honey,

Let the pain in us soar through.