the lonely hut in Lauenförde

As if I’m blind, I find the world from part to part, along the road, not knowing where I’m going. So unpredictable, so new today are all these places where I want to stay and lay, make love, and sing the song that makes our bond so strong: “Marble, stone and iron break, our love will not…”( “Marmor, stein und eisen bricht, aber unsere Liebe nicht.”). That is a song we tried to sing as we were walking alongside a country road in Eastern West-Phalia, not far from where we live.

(There was a huge trailer passing us, loaded with Marble & Granite (Lithos). Imagine this American truck near the famous Hannover Rocks, and you don’t understand what economy and world trade in big stone loads is about. But really this is not what I wanted to tell you about today.)

This afternoon we made a kind of adventurous long and sometimes astonishing walk. We wanted to see the pure yellow of the rapeseed fields in the North. But they were nearly vanished, mowed or grown out into pale yellow greens. But we knew that we had chosen to walk down a very bending pictorial road with lovely green valleys, bushes and trees sprinkled out along curving hillsides. Cows laying under old oaks, as if they were brought there by an 18th-century farmer and never left their open air stable. It was all so poetic, just until we had to walk along a busy road, where we had to avoid that huge Marble truck coming uphill.

There we took an unknow unpaved side road, which perhaps could give us the entrance into a brook valley, meandering down in the direction of the nearby train station. And there we discovered an abandoned paradise. A kind of wild but yet half-cultivated, half-overgrown valley-garden with blossom trees, water basins, small tracks leading around. Hidden old wooden benches under a more than shadowy tree. Willemien feared some dog coming down to devour the trespassers. As we climbed up a steep hill we found a farmers barn, closed. Apparently nobody had visited or cultivated this lost paradise recently, except perhaps for some grass mowing here or there. A riddle.

And there were more special valley corners and sites down the brook valley. We must revisit this fairy tale landscape with Mischa. It felt as if we were walking in a dream. And al this feeling of bliss culminated in our discovery of that not mentionable off the road corner, where under a meadow tree a half-ruined small barn or hut is hiding under bushes and grass. As you may see here, that’s destiny. At least a kind of poietic destination, when you follow the way, with eyes blind for the material world and not knowing where you are going.