Wanderlust – a feeling of infinity
This article was originally published in German. The English version is an automatic translation and may contain errors. The German original is authoritative.
Do you know what fascinates me? Right in this moment we can be anything. We are at the beginning.
We can determine who we are, what we want, where we are going.
We can reinvent ourselves every day without having any responsibility.
We only have to be true to ourselves.
We can say. Come, let's fly away.
Come, let's build a hut on Hawaii.
Come, let's storm a courtroom and say that there is no truth at all.
We could be rebellious.
Or lie around all day and every now and then get up to nibble croissants.
We could be everything.
And at the same time nothing.
Now we are most alive.
We are only ourselves.
Flexible, supple, energetic.
We don't have to be proper.
One is proper at sixty.
We don't have to do anything.
We only have to do what our heart and sometimes our head tells us.
We are throbbing veins. Pulsating blood.
Sociable silver.
And silent gold.
We are yearning.
Sometimes poetic.
Loving.
Doubting.
And always hoping.
We are an inextricable mountain of feelings and desires.
And only when this mountain is no longer there,
when it has been worn away by the tides,
are we dead.
Lifeless.