It's pointless -

...but it can also be really really good.
LIFE !

Viva Vita!

Again and again over the past years I have come across amazing and yet little publized, in fact often sidelined, literature produced by women. I am currently reading “All Passion Spent” by Vita Sackville-West, a friend of Virginia Wolf. However, she reads like a Tolstoy, although more concise, and humorously disects the gender oddities of Edwardian England with a poignancy and clarity as if she were alive today. Of course, that kind of writing is uncomfortable for many and rarely is kindly reviewed by literary juries...

Do you smell that...?

It's one thing to get hit again and again by this fetid blast of negativity every time "la gran famiglia" moves into the picture. It's another to pretend it's the latest Hugo Boss.

God Bless...

So if most people in fact do like fast food, Discount Stores and prefer a gym with a sizable parking lot to a brisk walk through the neighborhood, it comes as no surprise that the “free” market economies of the world look the way they do: paved nearly door to door with a most eclectic patchwork of gas stations, parking lots and stores in the efficient style of giant shoe boxes. Obviously quick and easy does it - at least for most of us.

Between Here and Zurich

Airports make me feel out of place. No matter how much time I have spent there, I can’t really get used to them.

I feel like I am walking naked through a chocolate display. Everything looks neat and tidy, ready for consumption, if only it weren’t for me bending over to help myself to one of the tasty bites.

My carefully chosen outfit suddenly seems to wrap around my rear end like wet toiletpaper, the tired straps of my skin colored bra are showing and my carry-on looks like something not even the cat would bring home; I could use a tan, my hair is floppy, and my nose is a size 14; I spilled coffee over my trousers, my fingerprints are all over my glasses and most likely I forgot to peel off the sales labels off the bottom of my sandals. Shall I go on...?

As I look around me it’s clear that I am the only one. Everyone else seems effortlessly perfect. It’s like leafing through a magazine and hoping that extensive airbrushing was applied even to the smallest detail.

Toned thighs extending from seemingly haphazardly draped skirts, lazy hair flowing down well appointed tops matching eyecolor and shade. Cartier jewlery, Prada sunglasses and all sorts of the latest electronic paraphernalia make me feel distinctly uneasy. Why oh why can’t I...?

But then, I have a lovely personality.