Sofia (a more serious short story by me)

Die deutsche Version findet ihr HIER.

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Sofia was finally off work. It was dark outside, and it rained again. Since three days it had been drizzling nearly continuously. Everything was permeated by this impertinent humidity. An umbrella was completely useless against this soft, but insistent onslaught. Therefore she had finally bought herself a practical rain coat with a hood and even a pair of rubber boots.

Now Sofia was standing at the bus stop looking like a personified waterfall and waited for number 22 to take her home. She wore her handbag under the raincoat for protection.

She saw the headlights of a bus approaching. When it came closer, Sofia could make out that the display did neither mention the end stop nor the route number. She stepped back, so that the bus would not stop. But it stopped anyway, and the door opened. The bus driver, a very old man with a kind of jelly bag cap (really??That is the English name for it?) on his head sternly looked at Sofia. “Good gracious”, thought Sofia, “he must have been retired long ago, why does he still drive a bus? Should I really enter?” These staring eyes were almost hypnotizing, but Sofia still hesitated.

Then she noticed that one of the passengers cleaned the steamed-up window with his sleeve and looked out and at her. It was a child, maybe six years old. She could not make out, whether it was a boy or a girl, but she could see a round face with likewise round eyes and many fair curls. Was this child traveling all by itself? It seemed to be too young for that. Sofia could not hesitate anymore, she had to find out about the child. She showed her monthly ticket to the bus driver, but he demanded change. “I don’t have any change”, said Sofia, “and I did pay already, the monthly ticket is still valid!” Hereupon the driver just waved her through, closed the door and started the bus.

Meanwhile, Sofia went into the back and tried to find the child. There were only very few people on the bus, but only adults, no child, as much as she searched. Had it been imagination? Now she sat in a bus, of which she did not know where it went. How was she supposed to get home? She pressed the stop button, but the bus did not stop. She tried five times, but without success. Was that a kidnapping? Was the bus driver crazy or even had suffered a heart attack? The bus was lurching so strangely. She ran to the front to find out, but there wasn’t any bus driver anymore. Any moment now they would hit something or someone.

Determined she sat down behind the steering wheel and tried to keep the bus on the right side of the road, while at the same time searching for the breaks. After a wild chase down a steep hill, she managed by and by to slow it down and bring it to a standstill.

How does one open the doors? Sofia tried the manual lever, as she did not dare to try all the buttons and switches. It was a bit difficult, but she managed and left the bus. The other passengers followed her. But where were they? This was not their town! That was not even their time! They had ended up in one or the other little, ancient village without any streetlamps. The only light was that from the windows of some houses.

The other passengers all went into one direction, as if they knew, where to go. Sofia decided to follow them, what other choice was there? They arrived at a larger house, from which gleeful music was to be heard, and entered. A big party seemed to be going on. They were welcomed warmly and asked to sit down at the table, food and drink would arrive shortly.

That was very strange indeed; Sofia could not comprehend it. All of a sudden she could hear a voice calling her name as if from far away “Sofia, Sofia”, soft and kind. She looked around the room, but could not find out who was calling. There it was again “Sofiaaa”, this time more insisting. And then there was only light; the people, the party, everything disappeared and was engulfed by a blinding light.

And then Sofia opened her eyes and looked at the anxious face of her colleague Maria. It seemed like she herself was lying on the ground and Maria was bending over her. “A bus hit you, Sofia. I saw it from my window and came down immediately”, Maria said. It seemed as if she really had stormed out of the office, as she did not wear any coat and was already completely drenched. “There comes the ambulance, Sofia, I will stay with you”, said Maria, and Sofia knew there and then that everything would be fine.

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This story was part of the project „write with me“ (German only) by blogger Offenschreiben

 

Ich wünsche euch allen einen schönen Tag!

… Have a pleasant day, everybody!

Wenn Liebe dich zu sich winkt … … When Love beckons to you …

Einige Abschnitte aus dem Buch „Der Profet“ von Khalil Gibran. Er schreibt über Liebe anscheinend in der männlichen Form, jedenfalls steht das im englischen Text so. Ich habe mir die Freiheit genommen, es im Deutschen abzuändern, denn das war mir zu fremd und lenkt meiner Meinung nach zu sehr vom Inhalt ab.

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Wenn die Liebe dich zu sich winkt, folge ihr,
obwohl ihre Wege hart und steil sind.
Und wenn sich ihre Flügel entfalten, gewähre ihr Vorrecht,
obwohl das Schwert, dass zwischen ihren Flügelspitzen verborgen ist, dich verwunden mag.
Und wenn sie zu dir spricht, glaube an sie,
obwohl ihre Stimme deine Träume zerschmettern mögen,
wie der Nordwind einen Garten verwüstet.

Denn selbst wenn Liebe dich krönt, so wird sie dich auch kreuzigen. Selbst wenn sie für dein Wachsen sorgt, so sorgt sie auch für deine Stutzung.
Selbst wenn sie zu deiner Krone hochsteigt und deine zartesten Zweige liebkost, die in der Sonne schwingen, so wird sie auch zu deinen Wurzeln hinabsteigen und sie, die in der Erde festhängen, schütteln.

Wie Korngarben sammelt sie dich zusammen.
Sie drischt dich, um dich zu entkleiden.
Sie sichtet dich, um dich von deinen Unreinheiten zu befreien.
Sie mahlt dich, bis du weiss wirst.
Sie knetet dich, bis du geschmeidig wirst;
Und dann setzt sie dich ihrem heiligen Feuer aus,
so dass du zu heiligem Brot für Gottes heiliges Fest wirst.

All dies wird Liebe mit dir tun, damit du die Geheimnisse deines Herzens kennenlernst, und durch ebendieses Wissen zu einem Teil vom Herzen des Lebens wirst.

Wenn du aber aus Angst nur den Frieden und den Genuss der Liebe suchst,
dann ist es besser, deine Nacktheit zu bedecken und dich vom Dreschboden der Liebe zu entfernen,
in die gezeitenlose Welt, wo du lachen wirst, aber nicht all dein Lachen, und weinen wirst, aber nicht alle deine Tränen.
Liebe gibt dir nichts als sich selbst und nimmt nichts ausser von sich selbst.
Liebe besitzt nichts und ist niemandes Besitz;
denn Liebe ist sich selbst genug.

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… A few paragraphs from the book „The Prophet“ by Khalil Gibran

When love beckons to you, follow him,
Though his ways are hard and steep.
And when his wings enfold you yield to him,
Though the sword hidden among his pinions may wound you.
And when he speaks to you believe in him,
Though his voice may shatter your dreams
as the north wind lays waste the garden.

For even as love crowns you so shall he crucify you. Even as he is for your growth so is he for your pruning.
Even as he ascends to your height and caresses your tenderest branches that quiver in the sun,
So shall he descend to your roots and shake them in their clinging to the earth.

Like sheaves of corn he gathers you unto himself.
He threshes you to make you naked.
He sifts you to free you from your husks.
He grinds you to whiteness.
He kneads you until you are pliant;
And then he assigns you to his sacred fire, that you may become sacred bread for God’s sacred feast.

All these things shall love do unto you that you may know the secrets of your heart, and in that knowledge become a fragment of Life’s heart.

But if in your fear you would seek only love’s peace and love’s pleasure,
Then it is better for you that you cover your nakedness and pass out of love’s threshing-floor,
Into the seasonless world where you shall laugh, but not all of your laughter, and weep, but not all of your tears.
Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.
Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;
For love is sufficient unto love.

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Ich wünsche euch allen einen einen von Liebe gesegneten Sonntag.

… I wish you all a Sunday blessed by love.

 

Stejlgabet bei steifer Brise … Stiff breeze at Stejlgabet

Wir parkten zwischen einigen kleinen Fischerkaten. Da wohnt niemand mehr, aber die Fischer, die noch übrig sind, benutzen sie als Lager.

… We parked the car between some small fisher huts. Nobody lives there anymore, but the still remaining fisherman use them for storage.

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Von hier aus blickt man in entgegengesetzter Richtung auf die Mul“bjerge“. Dort oben sind wir schon mal langgekraxelt. Das war im Mai 2018 (auf dem Steg) und im Juni 2018 (entlang der „Berge“), in beiden Fällen der einzige Regentag in dem jeweiligen Monat … 😀

… From here, in the opposite direction we look on to the Mul „mountains“. We have been scrambling up and down there. That was in May 2018 (on the jetty) and in June 2018 (along the „mountains“), in both cases the only day with rain in the respective month.

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Zu dem langen Steg führt ein ebenso langer Damm.

… A just as long dam leads to the long landing stage. Or is it a bathing stage?

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Das war ein stürmischer Tag mit Hochwasser, es gab keinen Streifen mit Strand zu sehen. Mein Mann meinte, das wäre doch gar nichts, aber ich fühlte mich recht exponiert auf dem langen Steg, ganz von Wasser umgeben und ziemlich weit weg von Land und hielt mich sehr an dem Geländerseil fest. Aber schön fand ich es natürlich trotzdem …

… It was a blowy day with high tide, there wasn’t any strip of beach visible. My husband said that this was nothing, but I felt quite exposed on the long landing stage, completely surrounded by water and rather a distance away from land, and I firmly gripped the rope. But, of course, I loved it nevertheless …

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Seit wir das letzte Mal dort waren, im Mai dieses Jahres, hat man aus dem kleinen Haus am Parkplatz ein Fischereimuseum gemacht und diverse Picknicktische und Grillgelegenheiten aufgestellt.

… Since we were there last time, in May of this year, the little house at the parking lot has been turned into a museum about fishing, and several picnic tables and grills have been set up.

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Mein Mann meinte, ihr wollt lieber mich sehen als ihn. Ich bin da nicht so ganz sicher, aber hier habt ihr mich … 😉

… My husband thinks that you wound prefer to see me on photos and not him. I am not so sure about that, but here you have me … 😉

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Zwei der Stellwände in dem kleinen Museum. Auf dem einen lokales Tierleben, auf dem anderen Fischer und Kartoffelernte um 1850 herum.

… Two of the information boards in the small museum. On one you find the local fauna, on the other fisherman and potato harvest around 1850.

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Wir hätten nichts dagegen, in einem der Holzhäuser weiter oben am Hang zu wohnen … aber wir werden nicht umziehen, keine Bange. Ich will endlich mal einen Garten heranwachsen sehen … 😉 … Ausserdem bekommen wir nirgendwo wieder so einen Musikraum.

… We would not mind to live in one of the wooden houses further up the hills … but we will not move, don’t worry. I finally want to see a garden grow up … 😉 … and we would never get another music room like ours again.

So sieht es dort bei Niedrigwasser aus:

… This is what it looks like at low tide:

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Zum Abschied ein paar Pferde. Die haben eine ganz schön steile Weide. Daher sind es auch die mit kürzeren rechten Beinen, damit sie am Hang grasen können. Wenn ihr genau hinschaut, dann seht ihr, dass sie alle in dieselbe Richtung grasen … 😉 … es gibt auch welche mit kürzeren linken Beinen, die grasen dann in die andere Richtung.   😀

… Finally some horses. They have quite a steep pasture. That is why they are of the breed with the shorter right legs, so that they can easily graze on the hill. If you take a good look, you can see that they are all moving into the same direction … 😉 … there are also those with shorter left legs; they graze into the other direction.  😀

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Ich wünsche euch allen ein möglichst angenehmes Wochenende …

… I wish you all an as pleasant as possible weekend …

Nicht nur eitel Sonnenschein … Not only sunshine and roses

In Aalborg gibt es im Südwestviertel ein richtiges second-hand Kaufhaus, wo wir die meisten unserer Sachen kaufen und Dinge, die wir nicht mehr brauchen, die aber durchaus noch gut erhalten sind, zum Verkauf spenden. Der Grund dafür ist das hier:

… In Aalborg’s southwest area there is a real second-hand department store, where we buy most of our stuff, and things that we don’t need anymore and which are still good looking and intact, we donate for sale. The reason, why we are doing it is this:

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„Man braucht nicht zu trinken, um ein Alkoholproblem zu haben
Deine abgelegte Kleidung, deine Schuhe und Taschen können den 122.000 Kindern helfen, die mit betrunkenen Eltern leben.
Blaues Kreuz                Wiederverwertung“

… „One doesn’t have to drink for having an alcohol problem
your discarded clothes, your shoes and bags can help the 122.000 children, who live with drunk parents.
Blue Cross                    Recycling“

Auf diesem Schild habe ich zum ersten Mal Zahlen gesehen. 122.000 Kinder, das sind ungefähr 2,5 Prozent der Gesamtbevölkerung Dänemarks und daher wesentlich mehr Prozent der Kinder in Dänemark. Ich finde, dass das erschreckend viele sind! Und Alkohol ist immer noch als Sozialrauschmittel akzeptiert, obwohl er oft zu Gewalt führt. Immer mehr Jugendliche trinken selbst auch in ganz jungem Alter.

… On this signpost I have for the first time seen figures. 122.000 children, that is about 2.5 percent of the entire population of Denmark and therewith rather more percent of children in Denmark. In my eyes, that is scarily many! And alcohol is still accepted as social intoxicant, although it often leads to violence. Even more and more young people drink at an early age.

Diese Konfrontation mit konkreten Zahlen hat mich doch ziemlich schockiert … und die Dunkelziffer ist wahrscheinlich noch viel höher. Nicht alle Alkoholiker sind arm …

… This confrontation with concrete figures has rather shocked me … and the number of unreported cases is probably much higher. Not all alcoholics are poor …

 

Kurz, aber oho! … Short, but nice!

Das ist der Vokslev-Kultur-und-Naturpfad. Wir kamen durch Vokslev auf dem Weg nach Hause von Nibe, als ich das Schild zum Kultur- und Naturpfad entdeckte. Von Vokslev nach Huul Mühle ist es nur ein Kilometer, aber welch ein Kilometer! Den kurzen Spaziergang kann man gut mal zwischendurch einbauen, wenn man auf dem Weg von oder nach Nibe ist. Besonders angeraten ist es, einen gut bestückten Picknickkorb mitzunehmen, denn an der Mühle liegt eine wunderschöne kleine Grünanlage.

… That is the Vokslev culture and nature path. We once passed through Vokslev on our way home from Nibe, when I spied the sign marking this path. Is is only one kilometre from Vokslev to Huul mill, but what a kilometre! This short walk can easily be squeezed in, when one is on one’s way to or from Nibe. It might be a good idea, to take a well equipped picnic basket along, as there is a beautiful little green space at the mill.

Hier geht es die Treppe hoch und dann geht man zuerst oben auf dem Hügel entlang mit einer wunderbaren Aussicht.

… The path starts here with the stairs and then one walks on a hill top with a great view.

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Der Bach, auf den man hinunterschaut, heisst Binderup Å.

… The creek down at the bottom is called Binderup Å.

Am Ende geht der Weg nach oben über die Wiese. Man sieht da keinen Weg, aber ganz in der Ferne ist eine Wegmarkierung.

… At the end, the path leads up a meadow. There is no visible path, but far off we saw a yellow marking.

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Danach folgt der Weg dem Waldrand wo man ab und zu durch die Bäume erspähen kann, wie steil das da hinuntergeht,

From there, the path goes along the edge of a little wood, where we could from time to time get a glimpse through the trees on how steep it is on the other side.

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bis man dann hier in den Wald eintaucht …

… until one „dives“ into the wood here …

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und hier wieder herauskommt.

… and comes out again here.

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Ist das nicht wie im Märchenwald? Ich war ganz begeistert.

… Is that not a bit like a fairytale wood? I was rather taken with it.

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Am Ende dieses kurzen Weges liegt eine grosse Wiese mit Plumpsklo, Picknicktisch und Mineralienmuseum. Es gibt dort nämlich auch einen Kalkbruch, wo man angeblich Fossilien finden kann.

… At the end of the short walk lies a large green with a privy, picnic table and mineral museum, as there is even an old lime pit nearby, where one allegedly can find fossiles. (It is not a pit really, it is on the surface, would that be a quarry?)

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Wir haben das allerdings (noch) nicht gemacht, weil wir uns die Mühle

… However, we have not seen that (yet), as we wanted to take a look at the mill

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und den kleinen Park anschauen wollten. Ausserdem waren von Westen her dunkle Wolken im Anmarsch. Ich hatte keine Lust, bei Regen im Kalkbruch rumzubröseln.

… and the little park. In addition, there were dark clouds approaching from the west. I felt no desire to hammer around in a lime quarry in the rain.

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Ich bin grosser Fan von Wasser- und Windmühlen und anderen mechanischen Apparaten bis hin zum Uhrwerk, denn die kann man ohne Elektrizität betreiben. Wenn die Elektrizität ausfällt, sind wir heutzutage ziemlich in den Ar…m gekniffen. Am wichtigsten sind Wasser, Wärme und Kochen; da hätte ich gerne stromlose Alternativen zur Verfügung … aber ich schweife mal wieder ab …

Übrigens stehen in dem kleinen Park Bänke verstreut, von wegen Picknick, die sind nur nicht mit auf den Bildern.

… I am a great fan of water and windmills and other mechanical devices up to clockworks, as those can be operated without electricity. Nowadays, when electricity fails, we are rather pinched in the ar…m. Most important are water, heating and cooking; I wouldn’t mind to have electricity-less alternatives at my disposal … but, I am wandering from the subject …

… By the way, there are several benches in the small park area, as we mentioned picnic, they are just not on the photos.

Mühle und Wohnhaus sahen sehr gepflegt aus.

… Both, mill and house looked very well maintained.

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Wie auch der schöne Privatgarten hinter dem Haus.

… Just like the private garden behind the house.

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Der Rückweg nach Vokslev geht entweder über eine schmale Strasse oder denselben Weg zurück, den man gekommen ist. Wir sind an der Strasse gegangen. An Autos ist uns nur das Postauto begegnet.

… Back to Vokslev one can walk either on a small road or the same way one came. We walked on the road. The only car we met was the mail.

Zum Abschied ein Bild von zwei Riesenhortensien im Ort Vokslev. Der gemütliche Gentleman hat sich freundlicherweise als Grössenvergleichsmass zur Verfügung gestellt.

… As a goodbye, here a photo of two giant hortensias in Vokslev. The cosy gentleman agreed to play the role of size-comparison-metre.

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Nächstes Mal werden wir auch den Kalkbruch in Augenschein nehmen und vielleicht Dinosaurierknochen finden.  😉

… Next time we will also have a look at the quarry and maybe find us some dinosaur bones. 😉

Macht es gut, alle zusammen!

… Take good care of yourselves!

 

 

Das Tal der Liebe … The valley of love

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(Foto: Pixabay)

Ich habe in meinem Regal ein Buch entdeckt, das ich völlig vergessen hatte und noch gar nicht gelesen habe. Es handelt sich um „Vogelgespräche“ von dem persischen Mystiker Attar, „Die berühmte persische Sufi-Erzählung über die Pilgerfahrt nach Innen“. Diese Pilgerfahrt führt durch sieben Täler, die Attar als die sieben Zustände der Sufi-Mystiker beschreibt: Suche, Liebe, Erkenntnis, Nichtbedürfen, Einheit, Verwirrung, Entwerden. Das Verwirrung so spät im Prozess noch erscheint, hat mich allerdings verwundert. Ich werde dieses Buch auf jeden Fall endlich lesen. Da findet man Schätze im eigenen Haus … 😉
(Das Buch ist im Ansata Verlag erschienen, ISBN 3-7787-7009-8, unbezahlte Reklame.)

… In one of my shelves I discovered a book that I had completely forgotten and which I haven’t even read yet. The English title is „The Conference of the Birds“ (Mantiq ut-tair) by the Persian mystic Attar. „The famous Persian Sufi narration about the pilgrimmage inwards. This pilgrimmage leads through seven valleys, which Attar describes as the seven states of a Sufi mystic: Search, Love, insight, not needing, unity, confusion, transcendence from material life. I was surprised that confusion occurs so late in the process. But I will definitely read the book now. One finds treasures in one’s own house … 😉
(The book was published in English by Routledge & Kegan Paul, Ltd., London.)

Natürlich habe ich einen Text daraus gewählt, der zu unserem Thema Liebe passt.

… Or course I have chosen a text from the book, which fits into our topic of love. You will find the English text after the *************.

„Das nächste Tal ist das Tal der Liebe. Um es betreten zu können, muss man ein flammendes Feuer sein – was soll ich sagen? Ein Mensch muss wie das Feuer selbst sein. Das Gesicht des Liebenden muss entflammt sein, er muss lodernd und ungestüm sein wie das Feuer. Wahre Liebe kennt keine Hintergedanken. Mit der Liebe hört Gut und Böse auf zu existieren … “

“ … In diesem Tal steht das Feuer für die Liebe und der Rauch für die Vernunft. Wenn die Liebe kommt, verschwindet die Vernunft. Der Verstand kann mit der Torheit der Liebe nicht leben; Liebe hat nichts mit dem menschlichen Verstand zu tun. Wenn ihr innere Schau besässet, würden euch die Atome der sichtbaren Welt offenbart werden. Doch wenn ihr die Dinge mit dem Auge des gewöhnlichen Verstandes betrachtet, werdet ihr nie begreifen, wie notwendig es ist zu lieben. Nur ein Mensch, der geprüft worden ist und frei ist, kann das empfinden. Wer sich auf diese Reise begibt, der sollte tausend Herzen haben, damit er jeden Augenblick eines opfern kann.“

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                      (translated by me from the German text)

… „The next valley is the valley of love. To be able to enter it, one has to be a flaming fire – what can I tell you? A human being must be like the fire itself. The face of the loving person must be on fire, he must be blazing and vehement like fire. True love does not know ulterior motives. With love, good and evil cease to exist. … “

“ … In this valley, the fire stands for love, and smoke stands for reason. In the presence of love, reason disappears. Reason cannot live with love’s folly; love hasn’t got anything to do with the human mind. If you were capable of looking within, the atoms of the visible world would be revealed to you. But, when you look at things with the eye of the common intellect, you will never grasp, how important it is to love. Only a person, who has been tried and is free, can sense that. A person, who takes to this journey, should own a thousand hearts, so that he can sacrifice one at any moment.“

The book on which the German translation is based (published by Routledge & Kegan Paul, Ltd., London) has two ISBNs:

  • ISBN-10: 071001032X
  • ISBN-13: 978-0710010322      (unpaid advertising)

The Wikipedia published a summary of that book:
https://wiki2.org/en/The_Conference_of_the_Birds

And there is a website, from where one can download books free of charge. But their version of this story is written in verse and much older:
https://www.globalgreyebooks.com/conference-of-the-birds-ebook.html

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Für mich sind die Sufis die Gnostiker des Islams, so wie u. a. die Katharer und Bogomilen Gnostiker des Christentums waren. Vielleicht interessiert es ja die/den eine(n) oder andere(n).

Doch jetzt wünsche ich euch erst einmal einen schönen Sonntag.

… In my eyes, the Sufis are Islam’s gnostics, just like for example the Cathars and Bogomils were Christianity’s gnostics. Maybe this is of interest for one or the other.

… For now I wish you all a pleasant Sunday.

 

 

 

An odd couple (short story by me)

Nach einer Initiative mit einigen wenigen Vorgaben von Frau Offenschreiben

Die deutsche Version findet ihr HIER. Achtung, grober Unsinn!

… After an initiative and a few input-requirements by Ms Offenschreiben

… Beware of fiddle-faddle, flimflam, humbug and flapdoodle! (I must say, the anglophones have more fun … 😉 )

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An odd couple
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(Foto: Pixabay)
Since six months, Karsten and Stig are sharing a small three room apartment in Hamburg, in a street called „Lange Reihe“ (long row), behind the main railroad station. It is not the best of areas, but cheap. It is actually Karsten’s flat, as his name is figuring on the rental contract. But, six months ago he had put an ad in the papers searching for a flat mate to save some money, as he is a student. A student of theology. He wants to be a parson and deliver God’s word to mankind. He might not be the only theologist with that plan, but he feels especially called. The fact is that God has talked to him and has given him the task to teach mankind how to better themselves.

Karsten thinks that he made a good bargain with Stig, a Swedish, relatively young  business man. They only meet at breakfast and have coffee together, share the morning paper, and then they go their separate ways.  Stig is often on duty travel for several days, so that Karsten has the flat to himself and can practise his future sermons aloud. The tone is important, insistent, urging, but not condescending, more in the style of „we are all sinners, nobody of us is worthy“. Karsten thinks that this would go down well.

Stig does not know about the grand plans, which Karsten worked out for mankind. Their communication at the breakfast table is sparse. They lift their coffee cups and look at each other over the rim of the newspaper, that’s it.

Everything could be sunshine and roses, if it wasn’t for their impertinent neighbour. She is young and quite pretty, and, as Karsten thinks, shows too much interest in the two young men, almost shameless. Every time she meets one of them she asks, if Karsten and Stig are gay, a couple that is. Stig just looks at her in a cool way and ignores her, but Karsten finds this behaviour outrageous and protests vehemently. But he only achieves that the cheeky person requests him to prove that he is heterosexual. Infamous jezebel!
Alexandra(Foto: Pixabay)
The infamous jezebel is called Alexandra, is tall and slim  and blessed with a great head of black curly hair. Pair that with a pale complexion and dark blue eyes, and you get a perfect Celtic beauty. It annoys her excessively that none of the two young men gets hooked. Both of them are good looking – each in his own way. Karsten has the air of a poet. He looks as if he is never here and now present, but always drifting on some cloud. Except when he scolds her, of course. He has delicate features and brown, wavy hair and is maybe just a little bit too thin.
Karsten
(Foto: Pixabay)
Stig, the cool one, is a more manly type, maybe comparable to Jean-Claude Vandamme. But he is completely unapproachable. Alexandra has not seen any of them with a woman ever, therefore the suspicion of homosexuality.
Stig(Foto: Pixabay)
Alexandra works as a waitress at a restaurant at Lange Reihe. That is not her dream job, but she is still young, just twenty, and still has to think about, what she actually wants to do with her life. At the moment she uses her free time to stalk Stig and Karsten. This is slowly developing into a real obsession.
She has already followed them both many times. Karsten’s day is boring. He goes to university, shopping and to the laundromat. Nothing else seems to take place in his life. Stig is a different case. He always succeeds to „lose“ her in no time, as if he knows that she is following him.  Therefore, she still does not know, where he is going and with whom he is meeting.
But, one morning another possibility presents itself. Alexandra is just passing Karsten and Stig’s flat – they live one floor below her – when she notices that their entrance door is not completely closed.  She cannot resist and opens the door carefully, so that she can take a peek. Somewhere inside somebody is reciting a poem or something similar, she cannot make out the words, but the tone is somewhat pompous. She sneaks into the hallway of the flat and sees Karsten, who is walking up and down the kitchen floor, an egg in one hand, with the other gesticulating with a spoon, talking to himself. Now she can hear the repeated mention of „God“, „Jesus Christ“ and „us poor sinners“. Dear me, Alexandra thinks, what is ailing him. Curiosity makes her open the first door to the right. This must be Karsten’s room. There are books galore on all formerly empty spaces. The titles speak for Christian literature. That’s why he is so uptight, she thinks.
She tries the door to the left. This room looks rather bare. No books, no pictures, no posters, nothing personal whatsoever. More curious than ever, she enters the room and looks into all the drawers one by one,  but with the exception of clothing, she cannot find anything that could tell her something about Stig. She looks under the bed. There is a flat box; what is that, an electric guitar? She pulls the box out from under bed. No, this is too slim, not a guitar. She opens the box … and closes it again immediately. Has she seen correctly? She opens the lid one more time: it is true, in the box is a gun; a gun like hitmen use them in gangster movies with all kinds of spare parts to screw on like silencer and such.  Alexandra cannot take her eyes of the gun. A Messiah and a hitman, what a pair, she thinks.
At that precise moment, the door opens and Stig enters the room. Alexandrea cries out, closes the box and pushes it under the bed. But Stig has seen what she was doing. The shouting alarms Karsten, who storms into the room, only to see how Stig is doing his best to choke Alexandra. Karsten breaks out into a loud lament about the sins of mankind and begs God for mercy for Alexandra and Stig’s black soul. Stig is so astounded that he loosens his grip around Alexandra’s neck, who with great presence of mind kicks him into the privates with her knee and tears herself free, while Stig is doubling up with pain.  Alexandra starts to shout „help, murder“, while Karsten continues his lament. All this commotion attracts more neighbours, some of them doormen in the red light area, who throw themselves on Stig. Somebody calls the police. Stig is arrested, and Karsten and Alexandra are also requested to follow the police officers to the station to give their statements.
Before they are led into separate interrogation rooms, Alexandra manages to whisper to Karsten „my hero, tonight I will reward you“. This triggers another lament about the sinful state of mankind. The policeman, who is supposed to interrogate Karsten, is tearing his hair …