Elisabeth Rank

I am ok, you know… You don’t have to look at me as if the sky fell down. Some clouds did but this is what people might call rain. Get used to it. And never get an umbrella. Stay and get through. Why you should? Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I’ve got this heart shaped head and you, you’ve got this head shaped heart. This is what it is, we cannot change anything about it, we never will. But one day you might understand that substance is one thing and silhouettes, states of surfaces are another; and they are both worth it. As it is the same with the moon and rice pudding. You may notice some conformities in appearance every time you have a look but you’d never dare to match them. Just as it is with us.

And yes, I am alright. Someday you will know that this means a lot.

I want to tell you that this is real, this is really not something you lose with first sigh. I want to show you my favorite places, and the beauty of quiet and how laughter turns into funny noises when you hustle it downhill. I really want to see your face while drinking hot chocolate with cinnamon and forget about cellphones and internet and emails and even work or the book I am actually reading. I want to tell you that you might become one of my stories, not the shorter ones, not the ones you can write down and then forget about them, no, one of those stories you’re not able to write down because the right words haven’t been invented yet, haven’t been discovered by my brain, one of those stories you cannot tell but always have in mind. I want to show you where I come from, I want to lend you my arms and eyes and knees and my books and some of my words. And I really want to share spaces with you, window seats and tables, wider perspectives, carpets, stairs and a bed now and then. I want you to know that I am here and there, and I am constantly stable and reachable, that I am not falling apart like some other things that did. I will be there in the morning, still. I will.

Wann hast du das letzte Mal geflucht? Ziehst du manchmal deine Unterwäsche falsch herum an? Auf den Keksen Mandeln oder Zucker? Auf dem Kuchen Mohn oder Streusel? Erkennst du dich abends im Spiegel? Wachst du manchmal auf und hast den Traum vergessen und nur noch seine Farbe im Kopf? Wie viel ist genug? Welchen Namen hättest du dir gegeben, wenn man dich gefragt hätte? Vertraust du dir? Wer hilft dir beim Druckausgleich? Was war dein größter Fehltritt? Und wenn du Blumen bekommst, wie viel schneidest du ab? Manchmal, wenn dein Bein einschläft, vermisst du es? Wem schreibst du nachts? Und wem nie wieder? Wo findet man dich auf einem Konzert? Minuten oder Stunden? Wann löst du dich auf? Wie viel bist du dir wert? Wo machst du deinen Frieden? Kennst du mich? Willst du das? Und wie lange brauchst du dafür? Könntest du stehen ohne zu schwanken? Wann kannst du nicht schlafen? Wenn ein Flugzeug startet, schließt du die Augen? Can we? Shall we? One day very soon?