on excellence: must i write?
the things i have put on ice are slowly defrosting | The Muse Letter No. 135
it’s 3 am and i lie awake in a bed that is not my own, in a city i occasionally visit. the cool late summer air is floating through the half-opened window, along with the sound of cars rolling on wet concrete.
next to me is a staple of german and english books, i want to read. the day before i took a photo of one of the pages and uploaded it to my story, underlining the question: why is having a boyfriend or a boss so much like having a personal villain, anyway?1
i have neither in my life at the moment, but still, i have trouble sleeping.
there’s still some kind of villain at play.
the things i have put on hold are slowly defrosting, building puddles outside my door, the longer i wait the harder it will be to wade through.
and september is the month of letting go after all:
Wer jetzt kein Haus hat, baut sich keines mehr.
Wer jetzt allein ist, wird es lange bleiben,
wird wachen, lesen, lange Briefe schreiben
und wird in den Alleen hi…