Justice

Cordiality

Help

Innovation

Creativity

Power

Compassion

Responsibility

Harmony

Experience

Freedom

Security

Optimism

Selfrealisation

Independence

Trust

Truth

Wisdom

Fulfilment

Magic

Mission

Courage

New start

Provocation

Revolution

Dream fulfilment

Change

Competition

Loneliness

Disappointment

Humour

Joy of living

Lightness

Passion

Love

Uncertainty

Pleasure

Connection

My eyes are slowly distinguishing light from darkAt the beginning the difference is not so starkThe light gets brighter, the wake-up anewThe dark begins to form into shapes within my viewOver time the shapes become a bit more colorfulPixel by Pixel my surrounding becomes more meaningfulAnd so, slowl

Early morning, just around lunchtime

Mariagrazia, Valentina and I went to Trakai. We did all the touristy things we could: eating kibinai, fried bread with cheese, šaltibarščiai (pink soup), entering the castle, renting pedal boats and then drinking beer along the lakeshore.We returned to Vilnius in the afternoon and went straight to “

A. (part 3)

Where we come from is not so clearAll we know is we are hereWhether we descended from the trees or came from outer spaceHere on Earth is our placeWe populate the planet from north to south and east to westMoreover, we try to live life to its bestFrom day to day and year to yearWith plenty ideas wher

Origin unclear, Destination unknown

The Rieglerhütte in the Vienna Woods was founded in 1872 by Josef Embacher and is located on the banks of the Halterbach in Karl-Bekehrty-Straße 180, 1140 Vienna. The tavern has always been a popular destination, and according to a historical edition of the "Presse" on February 14, 1886, it was even

Tavern in the woods

I miss the timesWe spent in your bedKnowing full wellThey're just in my head.Or are they?Are they just an Illusion?Were they real?Or just an Illusion?.I miss your breathThe smell of GinDown my neckAnd on my skin.Was it real?Or just my desire?Just a dreamI sill aspire?.I miss the tasteOf cigarettesOf

Cigarette daydream

MY POEM?I have always wondered if love poems are like a princess story, but what about mine? What if I don't want my plot to be about someone else's love poem? I want my own poem, so my story is not considered as some Cinderella love story to tell. My poem about love was not how I imagined it. I liv

My poem of love

Aneta (27) from Dolný KubínIn Saint-Gilles, the streets Rue Berckmans, Rue de la Bonté and Rue de Livourne met in one spot. In one corner was the bar Le Livourne, in another the bar Chez Stephy and in the third was the house where she lived. From the window in her room, she had a view of the place w

Rue Sans Souci

Raphaël (46) from AntwerpOne place he kept returning to was Rue de Namur. The starting point was the Place Royale, a square in neoclassical style where the main market and the royal palace used to be, which had since been replaced by various art galleries. Walking from the Place Royale through Rue d

The Modern Coffee House

Said (51) from AgadirSaid is sitting there. Bread in his hand. With two fingers he plucks off a piece. He grinds the dry pastry between his fingers. He lets the small pieces slowly crumble onto the street. The greedy pigeons pounce on them. They peck away the best pieces from each other. Said is the

The Pigeon Man

In the 1970s there were days in Vienna when it snowed in October. Without experience, my best friends and I, equipped with jackets, backsack, pocket knife, lighter and potatoes, had the idea of spending a night in the Vienna Woods near the west of Vienna. As city kids, such actions were an exciting 

Anecdotes from youth time – 2nd part

When I was about to move to Berlin, I heard from my aunt an anecdote, a story told by a friend of a friend about clubbing in the German capital in the early 2010s. He was invited to a party at an acquaintance’s apartment. At one point, he needed to pee, and someone indicated the bathroom to him. As 

Dit is Berlin

Most of my life I have comfortably navigated the calm waters of perceived heterosexuality and cisgenderness. As a child, however, I was bullied for being a dyke, a sapatão, as kids would scream in the musical way they typically do, adding a whimsical touch to the psychological warfare they relentles

It's just a phase

#storiesconnect

72 stories