[When I think back to where it started I am thinking of sitting in the courtyard in the sun opening my email account when a few written lines are about to change my life. These few lines are the acceptance letter for a study abroad semester at the University in Lismore, NSW Australia.
June 23rd to October 13th.
Australia. My dream, my muse. My second home.
I am again sitting in the courtyard but this time in front of my dormitory in Lismore and am two weeks into my first term here at the Southern Cross University.]
Abstracts from a writers diary
notes:
683 Bus
5$ patchouli
Thursday 3-6pm live music/farmers market square
Tambear[timbré]-blak books, good coffee, sun outside
IUD
Fleetwood Mac
R.B.(overwhelmed by the unit content)
‘Regen Ag’
The better life-joy and Roy (guitar)
Stone and Wood pacific ale
Things I can’t afford:
-coconut milk
-loose tea
sentences:
That’s a new thing `cause I have so much space here.
She pretends she doesn’t care cause that’s what happens when you use things for their function, not their beauty.
Is this still mine if Grammarly corrects my words? Are the words still mine if I let them be stolen by Artificial Intelligence?
`cause the main character in the tv show I am watching right now looks like you.
Watching sparks in the sky at night is like a drug. There’s no end in sight.
Yes, we are these millennial unromantic social media folks.
I walk into a room at a party and all I wanna do is fuck all the pretty boys.
We hear two doors falling into their locks with a metallic sound.
There’s only blue and green.
Happy: my feet stop wanting to wander, my heart stops shivering from fear of missing something, and my mind stops repeating all that has caused pain.
This morning I woke up with tired eyes.
I couldn’t stay inside, the trees in the morning fog looked too beautiful not to have them as a view.
I am talking about inspiration from a bug sitting next to me in the grass.
If this is what happiness that lasts looks like?
And I probably shouldn’t look for another dreamer like me.
I am feeling a bit shit today.
This is not the way I am gonna make new friends.
Soft is what she breathes to live.
I miss my tribe.
I’m just afraid sometimes, that my emotions are pouring out of me like someone would pour tea from a pot and eventually there’s nothing left.
I walk down the dark grey pavement, downhill between cars and my eye catches sight of a whale sticker on the window of the van I’ve been secretly stalking.
I feel it when I stand in the grocery shop and weigh up my options between 1,50$ Coles organic red kidney beans and 1$ non-organic butterbeans.
A picture filling up with warm blood, dropping on my skin, burning pain, as if someone spilled diesel all over me and lit a cigarette on my grounds.
Then I grab my local market leaf beet with organic wholemeal spaghetti in a bowl and close the door to my room.
I weep for feeling pain while I exist in this perfect world of mother nature.
I spent all my days between four wooden walls, get weaker, get hungrier, get sun deprived, worry, sleep, repeat.
What if the ants, the bugs asked for help and went under cover?
Clothes are being shed for the warmth crawls through the bodies.
Three kangaroos hopping through the grass in the morning mist.
The light grey skin of dolphins blending in with the dark grey ocean, their fins whipping white curls that spread joy into hearts of humans standing on the stoney path next to water.
‘Have you filled your room with dreams and promises?’
‘Yes but not the big ones. For those I don’t have paintings. They linger in the air I breathe every day.’
I am longing for the moment I am in.
My feet carry the outlines of this country.
And my heart carry’s all that’s inside of it.
Autorin: Mia Kufner studiert Kreatives Schreiben und Texten an der SOPA (Berlin School of Popular Arts).
Titelbild von der Autorin.
