March 26. Lobo.
Philosophy should be sprouting from the pain of being. Like a fragile plant. What am I saying here? A plant? Pain of being? I am dwelling in Buenos Aires these days, feel like I have to move on because I already feel too much at home here. It gets a little bit aburrido. But of ...
March 25. Backups.
I have to make backups regularly. Backups are an interesting phenomenon. They can make you feel safe. I mean, right after you made a backup, right after you saved all your work on various usb-sticks, as well as on various servers on different continents so that your work will survive a partial nuclear winter, and ...
March 24. Tango lesson.
A few days from now I will experience some unprobable situation. I was playing dice and had to throw five times the same number. The called it the poker. You have three tries. I threw two ones in the first try and threw another one with the second try. Put the remaining two dices back ...
March 23.
In Argentina, a coffee Jarrito is a medium-sized cup of coffee. It's as good as it gets. I have written in a café that whole day. I have to sit close to the enchufe, the plug. What is there to say? It is like office work, sitting behind a computer and hitting the keys on ...
March 19.
Daniel works at the Argentinian Correos. He is a very friendly and goodlooking guy. He travels daily between Cordoba and Buenos Aires for three months now. Before, he went to all parts of Argentina - he knows every Correos headquarter in the country. His camionette is accompagnied by a custodia-car to protect him from robbers ...
March 17. Cordoba.
We woke up in Cordoba and started walking around under the hot sun. In this city we had the address of some couchsurfers so we called them we were coming and jumped on a crowded bus. After a twenty minute bus ride we arrived at their place, a small one-floor white casa with a garden ...
March 15. Mendoza.
Pablo went out early for work, and we left with him. Still sleepy, we walked along the grand avenue of Santiago searching for a please to sit down and have a coffee. Although the city center was full of people, we could hardly find a bakery like the ones I am used to in Berlin ...
March 13. Providence.
Friday the thirteenth. I am in a café where the waiter has bloody eyes and under the glass plates of the tables are roasted and unroasted coffee beans. Santiago de Chili is a magnificent city, a metropole with many faces. I've been here for a couple of days now and moved about the center enough ...
March 12. El Café.
Good day, writing. The apartment didn't have an airconditioning but that didn't bother me. I wrote on this very experimental travel writing thing, associating freely words and thoughts I don't believe in. Where did this writing take place? I try to remember. It was a round table in a kitchenette, a glass table you can ...
March 11. Santiago sweet.
I decide to meet someone today I call that person Sara because that's what first comes to my mind. She was not on our overnight bus to Santiago de Chile, I didn't meet her on the streets of this five million metropole with the 02 area code, neither was it the woman that sold me ...
March 11. Santiago sweet.
I decide to meet someone today I call that person Sara because that's what first comes to my mind. She was not on our overnight bus to Santiago de Chile, I didn't meet her on the streets of this five million metropole with the 02 area code, neither was it the woman that sold me ...
March 8.
Making the concepts of death and peace converge, how's that for universal religion?

In the Mapuche village near San Martin de los Andes a child held the barrier for the tourists. We walked around; the people had conserved some aspects of their traditional lifestyle. A girl herded some sheep. I photographed some goats. Their ...
march 7.
A puppy walks up to me while I am writing. Her clumsy movements touch me. She puts her nose against the screen of my computer. She is exploring the world and that says it all. I don't need to write another word. Hush. Let's all be silent today.