I often have
a dream as if where I live now I came to be quite by chance, it is not my real
home. As if my home were somewhere else, somewhere too far and at the same time
too near, in the woods, on the shore of the bank, in a small village drowned in
the greens, where in small beautiful huts extremely kind and beautiful people
live, who need me, miss me badly and look forward to seeing me again.
It seems to
me, as if I know how to get to that country. I often even stood on the way
homeward. I would now lose my way, or even reach the place, look around and feel
the warmth, quietness and love of my hometown.