These days after my illness I have a curious feeling of being in a kind of an open loop: Relaxing maybe is the wrong expression. Let’s put it this way: I hear much more during the day. I have arranged my books. Arranging, putting things in order but not obsessive, has a calming effect on me. Also empty rooms. I slowly get my peace back. Like a pendulum which is standing still after strong oscillations. Now I have fewer duties, which I could use as pretense to escape from silence. The tours to the shopping-centers have finished. I admit, that my living room and my bedroom look like niches of ikea.
After a long time I started meditating again. Sitting in front of a white wall. My bedroom has no pictures, and I’m not going to change that. So I’m sitting here, looking at the white wall, with a border of beech skirting board, on a black pillow, under it a black blanket, which is lying on the timber flooring, and I stay sitting. My hands are lying together, my attention is on my mind, my breath and I’m trying to be totally present – and I’m listening.
Silence compresses itself in front of my ears, I can nearly hear it. Through the closed windows I hear like the rush of a river the muffled sound of passing cars. In the other flat someone is closing a cabinet door. Slowly my calves are falling asleep. In the living room the alarm clock goes off, time is up. (2006)