RossiFee
Reviews
Detailed
Translated · Show original
Cricket-Chirping Childhood Memories
An evening in August 1992.
It was one of those unremarkable vacation days that I will cherish for a lifetime.
Back then, to my knowledge, there were no "vacation programs" that entertained children from the age of 5 on a daily basis.
I only have the scouts in mind, where the boys shared their adventures after the holidays.
Until I was 13, I grew up in the countryside.
Amidst natural meadows and fields as far as the eye could see.
We country kids were "just outside".
In nature.
Unrestrained, carefree, creative, and imaginative.
At least during the long summer holidays, I often felt like the wide world was at my feet...
Back to that summer evening in August 1992 or maybe 1993?...
I am sitting in my parents' red Jetta.
(Where we were headed, I can't remember for the life of me.)
I roll down the window with both hands. I stretch my hand into the cool driving wind.
The sun sets noticeably earlier than it did just a few weeks ago. The mild evening is tinged with the first cool hints of late summer.
My hair flutters into my face in strands and tickles my nose.
There are only a few people out on this remote country road.
Before us, nothing but mowed meadows and fields of grain.
I hold my nose out the window and absorb this beautiful evening atmosphere.
I can still smell the fresh hay on this cool, already damp field.
Spicy herbs and sweet flowers release their finest aromas in the twilight.
I want to lie down in this dreamy bed of hay and straw.
I have to yawn.
Slowly, I roll the window up a bit higher.
I let myself fall back into the seat.
I brush my hair out of my face and see the first stars twinkling.
It is quiet in the car, my little sister next to me is already asleep.
I close my eyes as well and let myself fall into the hay bed.
I wish that this summer and the long holidays would never end.
The song of the chirping crickets lulls me to sleep...
It was one of those unremarkable vacation days that I will cherish for a lifetime.
Back then, to my knowledge, there were no "vacation programs" that entertained children from the age of 5 on a daily basis.
I only have the scouts in mind, where the boys shared their adventures after the holidays.
Until I was 13, I grew up in the countryside.
Amidst natural meadows and fields as far as the eye could see.
We country kids were "just outside".
In nature.
Unrestrained, carefree, creative, and imaginative.
At least during the long summer holidays, I often felt like the wide world was at my feet...
Back to that summer evening in August 1992 or maybe 1993?...
I am sitting in my parents' red Jetta.
(Where we were headed, I can't remember for the life of me.)
I roll down the window with both hands. I stretch my hand into the cool driving wind.
The sun sets noticeably earlier than it did just a few weeks ago. The mild evening is tinged with the first cool hints of late summer.
My hair flutters into my face in strands and tickles my nose.
There are only a few people out on this remote country road.
Before us, nothing but mowed meadows and fields of grain.
I hold my nose out the window and absorb this beautiful evening atmosphere.
I can still smell the fresh hay on this cool, already damp field.
Spicy herbs and sweet flowers release their finest aromas in the twilight.
I want to lie down in this dreamy bed of hay and straw.
I have to yawn.
Slowly, I roll the window up a bit higher.
I let myself fall back into the seat.
I brush my hair out of my face and see the first stars twinkling.
It is quiet in the car, my little sister next to me is already asleep.
I close my eyes as well and let myself fall into the hay bed.
I wish that this summer and the long holidays would never end.
The song of the chirping crickets lulls me to sleep...
9 Comments
Translated · Show original
The Choir of Angels?
Iris holds the prayer book tightly in her hand.
Determined, she opens the requested page in the hymnal.
To her great delight.
Like a tremor, the congregation rises.
A divine song follows.
Actually, Iris is not very religious.
She just enjoys singing melancholic melodies in this old place with its ornate, holy observers, who seem to know so much yet reveal nothing.
She hears the voices of the others.
The choir of angels?
Today she dares!
She will outsing them all!
With all her might, she will need every ounce of strength, everyone will look at her!
It tingles all over her body, weak knees, her hands trembling and damp, she presses the black book even tighter against herself.
Her heart beats faster and faster, heavy breathing. Iris takes a deep breath...
Silence.
The crowd of believers settles onto the creaky old wooden benches and folds their hands.
Here and there, a slightly suppressed cough and clearing of the throat.
The air, thick with the scent of song, is cleansed by dense clouds of incense. Until the last note has faded away.
The expectant silence and the call of an inward prayer force Iris back into the depths of the unfriendly, hard, and eternal church pew.
She has missed her cue.
Determined, she opens the requested page in the hymnal.
To her great delight.
Like a tremor, the congregation rises.
A divine song follows.
Actually, Iris is not very religious.
She just enjoys singing melancholic melodies in this old place with its ornate, holy observers, who seem to know so much yet reveal nothing.
She hears the voices of the others.
The choir of angels?
Today she dares!
She will outsing them all!
With all her might, she will need every ounce of strength, everyone will look at her!
It tingles all over her body, weak knees, her hands trembling and damp, she presses the black book even tighter against herself.
Her heart beats faster and faster, heavy breathing. Iris takes a deep breath...
Silence.
The crowd of believers settles onto the creaky old wooden benches and folds their hands.
Here and there, a slightly suppressed cough and clearing of the throat.
The air, thick with the scent of song, is cleansed by dense clouds of incense. Until the last note has faded away.
The expectant silence and the call of an inward prayer force Iris back into the depths of the unfriendly, hard, and eternal church pew.
She has missed her cue.
4 Comments
