#im abendrot

[odyssej]

(next)

#sketch #scraps #medibang paint #private art #giles #Im Abendrot

[espejomonastico]

Richard Strauss: Im Abendrot (from Vier letzte Lieder) (1949). Upon a text by Joseph von Eichendorff.

André Previn, conductor

Arleen Auger, soprano

Wiener Philharmoniker

Ist dies etwa der Tod?

#richard strauss #im abendrot #arleen auger #andre previn #vier letzte lieder #postromanticism #joseph von eichendorff #Youtube

[joaquimblog]

A L'HORA BAIXA

Ahir ho vaig anticipar a la pàgina d’IFL a Facebook i ara aquí, sí, he decidit tancar definitivament el blog. El 20 de mar de 2019 vaig escriure un apunt anomenat Final, on anunciava el tancament del blog, bàsicament en aquella ocasió, produït per esgotament. Aquell apunt va tenir un afegitó dos dies més tard, que s’anomenava El darrer comentari i va suposar el final d’una etapa llarga i…

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#Im Abendrot #infernemlandades #Jessye Norman #Richard Strauss #Salvador Pila

[klavierpanda]

When songs/pieces of music use word painting >>>>>

#for those that don't know it's when the music reflects the lyrics #it can be quite literal #like on the word 'anticipation' in sweet transvestite #or it can be more subtle than that #especially when it's mixed with motifs and themes that represent certain things ot concepts #for example in Richard Strauss' Im Abendrot near the end the lyrics talk about death #and in the accompaniment he uses the transfiguration theme from his mucu earlier piece titled death and transfiguration #which is a tone poem about someone accepting death #um yeah I felt like ranting about music :) #death mention #(for the tags) #panda's post

[lawrenceleemagnuson]

Cuno Amiet (1868-1961) Aussicht von der Lueg im Abendrot (1930) oil on canvas 55 x 60 cm

[germanysnexttopgedicht]

Die Bürgschaft

Zu Dionys, dem Tyrannen, schlich Damon, den Dolch im Gewande: Ihn schlugen die Häscher in Bande, "Was wolltest du mit dem Dolche? sprich!" Entgegnet ihm finster der Wüterich. "Die Stadt vom Tyrannen befreien!" "Das sollst du am Kreuze bereuen."

"Ich bin", spricht jener, "zu sterben bereit Und bitte nicht um mein Leben: Doch willst du Gnade mir geben, Ich flehe dich um drei Tage Zeit, Bis ich die Schwester dem Gatten gefreit; Ich lasse den Freund dir als Bürgen, Ihn magst du, entrinn' ich, erwürgen."

Da lächelt der König mit arger List Und spricht nach kurzem Bedenken: "Drei Tage will ich dir schenken; Doch wisse, wenn sie verstrichen, die Frist, Eh' du zurück mir gegeben bist, So muß er statt deiner erblassen, Doch dir ist die Strafe erlassen."

Und er kommt zum Freunde: "Der König gebeut, Daß ich am Kreuz mit dem Leben Bezahle das frevelnde Streben. Doch will er mir gönnen drei Tage Zeit, Bis ich die Schwester dem Gatten gefreit; So bleib du dem König zum Pfande, Bis ich komme zu lösen die Bande."

Und schweigend umarmt ihn der treue Freund Und liefert sich aus dem Tyrannen; Der andere ziehet von dannen. Und ehe das dritte Morgenrot scheint, Hat er schnell mit dem Gatten die Schwester vereint, Eilt heim mit sorgender Seele, Damit er die Frist nicht verfehle.

Da gießt unendlicher Regen herab, Von den Bergen stürzen die Quellen, Und die Bäche, die Ströme schwellen. Und er kommt ans Ufer mit wanderndem Stab, Da reißet die Brücke der Strudel herab, Und donnernd sprengen die Wogen Des Gewölbes krachenden Bogen.

Und trostlos irrt er an Ufers Rand: Wie weit er auch spähet und blicket Und die Stimme, die rufende, schicket. Da stößet kein Nachen vom sichern Strand, Der ihn setze an das gewünschte Land, Kein Schiffer lenket die Fähre, Und der wilde Strom wird zum Meere.

Da sinkt er ans Ufer und weint und fleht, Die Hände zum Zeus erhoben: "O hemme des Stromes Toben! Es eilen die Stunden, im Mittag steht Die Sonne, und wenn sie niedergeht Und ich kann die Stadt nicht erreichen, So muß der Freund mir erbleichen."

Doch wachsend erneut sich des Stromes Wut, Und Welle auf Welle zerrinnet, Und Stunde an Stunde ertrinnet. Da treibt ihn die Angst, da faßt er sich Mut Und wirft sich hinein in die brausende Flut Und teilt mit gewaltigen Armen Den Strom, und ein Gott hat Erbarmen.

Und gewinnt das Ufer und eilet fort Und danket dem rettenden Gotte; Da stürzet die raubende Rotte Hervor aus des Waldes nächtlichem Ort, Den Pfad ihm sperrend, und schnaubend Mord Und hemmet des Wanderers Eile Mit drohend geschwungener Keule.

"Was wollt ihr?" ruft er vor Schrecken bleich, "Ich habe nichts als mein Leben, Das muß ich dem Könige geben!" Und entreißt die Keule dem nächsten gleich: "Um des Freundes willen erbarmet euch!" Und drei mit gewaltigen Streichen Erlegt er, die andern entweichen.

Und die Sonne versendet glühenden Brand, Und von der unendlichen Mühe Ermattet sinken die Knie. "O hast du mich gnädig aus Räubershand, Aus dem Strom mich gerettet ans heilige Land, Und soll hier verschmachtend verderben, Und der Freund mir, der liebende, sterben!"

Und horch! da sprudelt es silberhell, Ganz nahe, wie rieselndes Rauschen, Und stille hält er, zu lauschen; Und sieh, aus dem Felsen, geschwätzig, schnell, Springt murmelnd hervor ein lebendiger Quell, Und freudig bückt er sich nieder Und erfrischet die brennenden Glieder.

Und die Sonne blickt durch der Zweige Grün Und malt auf den glänzenden Matten Der Bäume gigantische Schatten; Und zwei Wanderer sieht er die Straße ziehn, Will eilenden Laufes vorüber fliehn, Da hört er die Worte sie sagen: "Jetzt wird er ans Kreuz geschlagen."

Und die Angst beflügelt den eilenden Fuß, Ihn jagen der Sorge Qualen; Da schimmern in Abendrots Strahlen Von ferne die Zinnen von Syrakus, Und entgegen kommt ihm Philostratus, Des Hauses redlicher Hüter, Der erkennet entsetzt den Gebieter:

"Zurück! du rettest den Freund nicht mehr, So rette das eigene Leben! Den Tod erleidet er eben. Von Stunde zu Stunde gewartet' er Mit hoffender Seele der Wiederkehr, Ihm konnte den mutigen Glauben Der Hohn des Tyrannen nicht rauben."

"Und ist es zu spät, und kann ich ihm nicht, Ein Retter, willkommen erscheinen, So soll mich der Tod ihm vereinen. Des rühme der blut'ge Tyrann sich nicht, Daß der Freund dem Freunde gebrochen die Pflicht, Er schlachte der Opfer zweie Und glaube an Liebe und Treue!"

Und die Sonne geht unter, da steht er am Tor, Und sieht das Kreuz schon erhöhet, Das die Menge gaffend umstehet; An dem Seile schon zieht man den Freund empor, Da zertrennt er gewaltig den dichter Chor: "Mich, Henker", ruft er, "erwürget! Da bin ich, für den er gebürget!"

Und Erstaunen ergreifet das Volk umher, In den Armen liegen sich beide Und weinen vor Schmerzen und Freude. Da sieht man kein Augen tränenleer, Und zum Könige bringt man die Wundermär'; Der fühlt ein menschliches Rühren, Läßt schnell vor den Thron sie führen,

Und blicket sie lange verwundert an. Drauf spricht er: "Es ist euch gelungen, Ihr habt das Herz mir bezwungen; Und die Treue, sie ist doch kein leerer Wahn - So nehmet auch mich zum Genossen an: Ich sei, gewährt mir die Bitte, In eurem Bunde der Dritte!"

--Friedrich Schiller

#friedrich schiller

[fieldofdaisiies]

Flesh (pt. 2)

secret santa gift for @iftheshoef1tz ❤️ @acotargiftexchange ship: Azriel x Eris type: angst and smut word count: 4,8k words warnings: explicit descriptions, mentions of politics and WW2 story masterlist | ao3

A warm summer breeze wafts through the open window, carrying along a scent gasoline, and freshly baked bread. The beige curtains  move in the slight wind, almost like they are dancing to the melody coming from the record player. Im Abendrot by Richard Strauss fills the air, only interrupted by ragged breathing, and soft male moans. 

Eris takes a pull on his cigarette - Cabinet ones this time - and his head lolls back. A guttural noise leaves some deep part of his throat, his hands stilling right above his lips. A thin film of sweat coats his skin.

Two small lamps on either side of the bed cast a gentle glow over the room, and let small shadows dance across the walls. It almost feels a little toasty inside his flat, his skin heated, coated in a thin film of sweat that also trickles down the side of his head. He hums, taking another pull, slowly blowing out the smoke. 

Azriel’s scarred hand curls tighter around his thighs, finger tips digging into his skin. He pokes his tongue out, wetting his lips, eliciting a low groan from Eris. 

Eris, using the hand that is not holding his cigarette, threads his fingers into Azriel’s silken strands, and makes him tip his head up. He meets his gaze, full of heated honey, twin flames of desire burning in them. 

"Why did you come here when I explicitly told you I needed space?" Eris voice is nothing more than a growl, his hold on Azriel’s hair strong, and still, Azriel has the audacity to smirk. He loves when Eris is dominant. And he loves that Eris gave in. He opened the door and a moment later he kissed him. And another moment later their clothes where on the ground.

Azriel lowers his chin a little, and kisses the broad tip of Eris cock, then parts his lips. "Quite late to ask that, huh? After all, your cock is basically already down my throat and the two of us are naked in your bed.“ 

He closes his fist tighter around Eris’ shaft, stroking him slowly, watching how the doctor’s eyes visibly roll back in his head. A tremor runs through Eris and he shudders. 

Azriel smirks again, loving how his lover feels in his hand. Eris is so hard, but his skin so soft, like velvet. Azriel marvels at the feel against his palms.

Eris' burning gaze is trained on Azriel and somehow he finds himself at a loss of words. No one really manages to render the doctor speechless - safe for Azriel Singer. Azriel’s thumb once again brushes his tip and a feline grin spreads over the director’s face. "Seems like you don't really mind that I came here."

He licks across his broad head, tongue sliding into the slit across its tip. He collects the small bead of moisture, savouring the taste of it, of him. "Seems you rather enjoy me being here. Having me fully at your mercy. On my knees. Between your legs. Your cock in my hand."

"Shut up!" Eris' hand, adorned with many very visible veins, shoves Azriel’s head down, and in a low almost like a growl sounding voice, he says, "And use that damn mouth for more important things if you can’t properly answer my questions."

Azriel doesn’t have to be told twice. He sucks the tip into his mouth and grazes his tongue along its underside. Eris hisses, and watches how his proud length fills Azriel’s mouth fully. It drives him made how his lover uses his scarred hand to grab the part he is not able to reach, fondling his balls from time to time. Eris thrusts his hips up, his cock touching the back of Azriel’s throat and eliciting a wonderful gagging noise from his lover. 

"Fuck," Eris curses and Azriel pulls him out nearly all the way before swallowing him again, letting his throat relax, desperate for as much of him in his mouth as could fit. The next time he really pulls him out. Azriel lifts his head a little, lips swollen and wet, saliva running down his chin, and murmurs in a trembling voice, "Don’t try to deny that you want me as much as I want you. That it is just as hard for you to stay away from me as I find it to stay away from you."

"That does not make it easier," Eris growls, sliding his hand over the one Azriel has braced on his thigh. Mine, his heart seems to sing, love and desire vibrating throughout his chest. But he can't bring him self to the say those damn three words. The words Azriel has already said to him. Not only once…many times.

"No one said it had to be easy, but we could try to forget about all of that…when we are together."

Eris stills and lifts his head, meeting Azriel’s glazed over gaze, swollen lips parted and mere inches from his length. "Can you really forget about the dangers of our—?"

"When I am with you, I can. I forget about everything. I only care about you in these moments." Azriel’s voice is soft, almost like a melodic whisper and it strings a few cords inside Eris‘ heart that turn his eyes glossy.

Azriel takes him into his mouth again, sucking harder this time, hollows his cheeks and bobs his head, licking and swallowing around him. Eris grabs his hair, holding back from pounding into him completely. But Azriel wants him undone, he wants Eris to fuck his mouth. Wanting to help him get rid of all his anger and frustration. He wants him to let go. So he drags his teeth over his shaft, lightly and not strong enough to hurt, but enough to tease and bring him pleasurable pain. Eris bucks, and he lets him swallow him down greedily. Eris feels his cock pulse, his skin taut and hot, passion blazing through his veins. 

Azriel withdraws his lips to the tip of him, rolling his tongue around him and meets his gaze through his lashes — those beautiful long lashes that draw shadows across his tan and with sweat glazed cheeks. Eris’ eyes are ablaze with desire, his passion just as acute as Azriel’s. The director takes him deep, and the deep moan that leaves him which reverberates along Eris’ cock and straight into his balls. Release gathers in his spine. He is so close, and all he wants to do is let go. 

"Fuck, I am actually so glad you came,“ Eris groans, his head lolling to the side, cigarette sliding through his fingers and dropping into the ashtray on the bedside table. 

Gripping Azriel's hair, his scalp, holding him in place, Eris thrusts his hips into Azriel’s mouth, hitting the back of his mouth over and over again. Azriel meets him with every thrust, squeezing him to tell Eris it is alright to let go. And that is what Eris does. 

Later, after the director has guided the doctor through his high, licking him gently, they roll over, lips meeting in a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss. 

Eris kisses him deeply, hips tenderly rolling against Azriel’s, brushing his cock that hardens between their bodies. "I wish I could do that. When I am with you, I wish I could forget about all the dangers and the possibility of someone finding about us out," Eris whispers, and parts Azriel's lips with his thumb. He once again rolls his hips against Azriel’s, relishing in the feel of his naked body against his own. "But I'll try. For you I'll try." 

His lips close over Azriel and they kiss, deep and sensual, Azriel’s hands gliding down Eris back, one squeezing his backside before stroking back up again. Eris’ hand is braced next to Azriel’s head, adorned with many visible veins. They break apart after a short moment, their gazes lock and they smile at each others. Eris fingers gently brush down the side of Azriel's face, drinking in his beauty. "For you, I'll try everything." He looses a breath. 

Azriel squeezes his eyes shut for a second, biting down on his lower lip. Eris slides a hand between them, grabbing Azriel's shaft, stroking him. "Because I like having you around. I couldn't stand a life without you in it."

Now it is his time to make Azriel feel good. He chases Azriel’s lips. The kiss deepens and the hold he has on him tightens, stroking him gently and making Azirel elicit the most beautiful male noises that there are. 

✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　 . ✦　

It is shortly past midnight, the air drifting in through the windows now a little cooler, no noises coming from the outside city anymore — almost like it has gone to sleep completely. Richard Strauss is still playing, still the Last Four Songs, Azriel’s favourite record. They set it up again, and it starts playing once more. 

His scarred fingertips dancing over Eris exposed, pale skin, Azriel makes him roll onto his back, and then slides his hand across the doctor‘s torso, mouth claiming the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. He softly sinks his teeth into Eris' skin, then his tongue glides over his skin and he starts to nibble. 

"I’m such a sucker for you." Azriel’s deep tenor reverberates through Eris. The doctor braces his foot on the bed, hips falling open while Azriel continues to worship his neck. He moves over Eris's skin, his knee braced between Eris' thighs, their clammy limbs entangled.

"I knew I' would never, ever be the same." The director groans against Eris' skin, tongue gliding over the auburn stubble along Eris jaw. "One look. One kiss. One touch of you." He pushes up on his hand, now leaning over Eris only so he has better access to his lips. "The first time we made love. The first time you told me you like me. The first night we spent in each other's arms. The first time you fucked me like I was the only thing you ever wanted in this world…"

Azriel wants to continue, but Eris doesn’t let him, chasing his lips, kissing him with wanton desire. 

A lick of heat fills Azriel, and he lets his hand slide down on his lover’s chest, to the V on his abdomen, to the coarse hair on his lower belly, but then back up again until his scarred fingers rest on the base of Eris‘ throat. "I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone," Azriel says, his fingers curl, finger tips digging into Eris pale and with freckles adorned skin. "More than my own life. And almost as much as freedom."

His tongue glides into Eris mouth, brushing his gums. But Eris no longer is in the moment. It is almost like the word freedom has pulled a lever inside his head. 

His hand, formerly having caressed the small of Azriel’s back, stills. Azriel notices his absentmindedness, and pulls back.

Worry is etched upon his features, doubt flashing brightly in his eyes — almost like he is worried he said the wrong thing. 

His chest rises and falls with deep inhales, and he keeps prolonged eye-contact with Eris, somehow waiting for the slap of a painful revelation to come. He can see it in Eris‘ eyes. 

But before he gives Eris a chance to talk, scared, once again,  he will end their relationship, he opens his mouth. "Let's leave East Berlin!"

Eris' eyes widen, and his breath catches. 

"I've been planning to leave this place for a while now, why not do it now?"

"Because your application to leave the country has not yet been approved." Eris' hand starts moving again, slowly, gently stroking Azriel's back. 

The only way to leave the GDR legally was to apply to leave the country. It mostly took years to get it approved. Azriel applied around seven months ago — no answer yet. 

"And?" The director raises a brow. He leaves the embrace and sits up. "I am so tired of this place. We can flee. I can flee and meet you again over the border."

Azriel's chest rises and falls heavily, each breath a deliberate inhale and exhale that reveals the whirlwind brewing inside of him. Eris' eyes remain fixed on Azriel, keeping prolonged eye-contact as the pain of Azriel’s idea takes root in Eris' chest and slowly seeps into every fibre of his being. It makes him acutely aware of the fact that maybe one day he won’t have Azriel in his life anymore. And that day might be sooner than expected. 

There is no chance that he can leave and everything will go well. It is too damn dangerous. 

He stares intensely, heart once more becoming a deep and cold void inside of his chest because there is no chance for happiness without the one person —the only person— to bring him joy.

"I want to try to escape soon. To Romania and from there onwards to some other country."

Every ounce of happiness whooshes out of Eris, his lips parting in silent shock. He instinctively recoils, shifting towards the headboard of the bed, his gaze fixated on Azriel with a flicker of pain dancing in his eyes. Panic sluices through Eris, an overwhelming fear of losing the person he loves most, making him feel hollow. His lip trembles, and an icy chill envelops his entire being. "Why?"

Azriel tries to find the right words. 

"Because I can't live in a place like this…I feel trapped. I feel like I can't be myself here. People can not live freely here, Eris. There are no free elections, power lies solely with one party - this is not how I imagine life to be. Children are not even allowed Mickey Mouse books…or watch West German TV."

Azriel looses a shuddering breath. "I feel like I can't breathe here. This country never accepted people like me. I am a Jew, Eris. And I am gay."

Eris sits up, so he can get on eye-level with Azriel when he starts to speak again. "I can't stay here. You don't understand what this is like." 

But Eris shakes his head. He understands what it is like - partly he does. But… 

His chest coiling, his empty heart hurting so fiercely inside of him it threatens to break him. He can't believe it. He can’t believe that the one person he loves so much, from the bottom of his heart, is actually going to leave him. 

"You are leaving me?" Eris asks, feeling selfish for posing this question. 

Azriel sits back and crosses one leg beneath him. "I'm not leaving you. I want to flee with you. Leave this country with you."

"I don't have to flee," Eris says. 

"Because you want to stay?" Hurt flashes in Azriel's eyes, the shock of betrayal passing over his face. 

Eris slides his hands up Azriel’s thigh, squeezing softly. Or rather wanting to as Azriel shoves his hand away.

"That's not it. I have an Austrian passport…"

Azriel's chin drops to his chest. "Right, you don't have to flee…" He looses a long breath, his hand now reaching for Eris. He knows he has formerly pushed him away, but now he seeks his touch, longs for it, for the feel of Eris' skin against his own. 

"Will it be easy for you to leave this place? I’m not speaking about the aspect of fleeing but in terms of leaving everything behind?"

Azriel tilts his chin up and shrugs. 

"Leaving me, will that be—"

Azriel stops him, his gaze intense. "Don’t ever dare think leaving you would be easy." He vehemently shakes his head, voice low and angry. "I…I could never bring myself to…“

He brings his hands up and cradles Eris' face, making him look into his eyes. "That's why I want you to leave with me.“

Eris' response is a heart-wrenching shake of the head. "I can't just leave. I am needed here. I have an important job. I…"

A muscle in Azriel's jaw feathers, his eyes glazing over. "And I am not more important than your position in the hospital?" His voice drips with hurt. 

"You know that is bullshit." Eris leans in closer. He rests his other hand on Azriel's bare shoulder. "You mean a lot to me, Azriel, more than anything in this world."

"Then come with me. You are the only thing that makes my life worth living," Azriel says, in his eyes a desperate plea for Eris to reconsider. He refuses to accept defeat. Eris has to come with him. "You are the only thing that makes my life worth living." 

Tears blur Azriel's vision, and he wants to move off the bed, but Eris is quicker, lunging at him, cradling his face in his hands. "So are you. It was foolish, I shouldn't have said the part about the hospital. But if I don't leave, I shouldn't be the one holding you back." Eris swallows thickly, not once breaking eye-contact with his lover. "You should leave. If you want to do this, if you are no longer happy here…" Eris' voice breaks and he presses his forehead against Azriel's. "I want you to be happy, and if another country is the only place to make you happy, I won't stop you." 

A shallow sob leaves Azriel. "I am only happy where you are," he whispers, softly pecking Eris' lips. "But I want to live somewhere where we can share our happiness with others. Where we can be openly happy without fear of consequences."

Eris lowers his chin, and Azriel's lips brush his forehead. He lets his lips rest there. "We will figure out a way how to go forward."

They will, but time is pressuring them. They are both nearly forty, people will soon start questioning them why they won't settle down, marry and start a family. They can't go on like this forever. This won't work. They will have to leave at some point. Or end whatever it is that is between them. 

Azriel's gaze moves towards the window, almost like he is looking outside, seeing a life beyond the hardship they are currently facing. 

"I am sorry for how I acted outside the theatre." Eris fetches him back to the moment, his voice low and steady, apologetic. 

"You are just cautious." Azriel threads their fingers together, the scarred tissue of his palm scraping against Eris‘s soft skin. He has the hand of a doctor, clean, smooth, well-manicured. 

"I am paranoid and an idiot."

"A lot depends on it. How you are perceived by the people. You could lose it all."

Azriel turns to look at Eris, their faces only an inch apart.

"The same goes for you." Eris nips at Azriel’s lips. "Your career, your—"

"Would you believe me if I tell you that I don’t care?" He chases Eris‘ mouth. "You would be worth it. Losing it all. And starting somewhere new with you."

Before their connection can deepen further, a knock shatters the intimate cocoon they've created. The two men are startled. Their breaths catch in their throat, panic taking root inside their chests.

"Herr Doktor Vanserra, open up! Oberleutnant Keir here."

The two men exchange a startled glance, the air thick with unspoken words and the looming threat behind the door. Panic claws its way into their chests. Their intimate cocoon seems to be breeched, the walls nearly tumbling in. 

The name echoes in the flat, sending a bolt of horror right through Eris' chest. He knew he had been followed. He knew it. And now he knows who has been following him. He should have been more careful. Now he brought Azriel in danger. They are in danger! Both of them. 

If they are caught—

"Herr Doktor Vanserra!"

Their eyes meet once more, speaking volumes, a silent agreement stretching out between their souls — Eris knows he can't avoid what awaits them outside the door. But if he can get Azriel out of this without any harm coming upon him he will do everything he can. Everything in his power. To protect the man he loves. 

"Out," Eris cautions, his voice barely audible in the dimly lit room. The urgency in his tone sends a shiver down Azriel's spine. He glances around, the air thick with tension. Eris gestures toward the window with a subtle tilt of his head.

Azriel looks towards the window, the darkness outside and then shoots Eris an incredulous look. "Are you mad? I am not a bat, I don't have wings!"

"Then grow some!" Eris retorts with a sense of urgency, sliding off the bed and moving toward the window. "Come on, let's go!"

Reluctance is etched upon Azriel's face, but the gravity of the situation pushes him into action. It is their only chance — if they search the flat, hiding in the bathroom or in a closet is no option. 

He swings his legs off the bed, feet meeting the cool floor. Azriel moves quickly, gathering all his clothes within reach. Eris, now at the window, peeks through the curtains, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "Hurry up, Azriel!" he urges, anxiety lacing his words.

Azriel fumbles with a stubborn button, frustration written on his forehead. He decides to ditch the trousers and only throws them over his shoulder, heading towards the window in just his undershorts, his socks and his shirt. 

The Oberleutnant's hand once again raps sharply on the door, the sound echoing through the narrow corridor and the flat. Their heartbeats quicken. 

"Trust me, you will be safe there. Just go—"

He does not let him answer. He closes the distance, his scarred hands tenderly cradling Eris's face and presses his lips against his mouth. He kisses him deeply despite their lack of time and the looming threat outside the door. 

In this stolen moment, time slows to a standstill. The world fades away, leaving only the sensation of their kiss. Each heartbeat echoes through their bodies like a ticking clock, signalling the end of something - the final countdown. 

They part and Azriel steps away. "I love you," he whispers and the knock on the door sounds again. 

With his trousers hastily thrown over his shoulder, Azriel pushes open the window. The night air is chilly against his skin when he slips through the opening and onto the rooftop. Berlin sprawls out below him, bathed in the soft glow of the few streetlights below. Azriel glances around, the streetlamps casting shadows along the streets and facade of the house, searching for any signs of danger and then crouches down, crawling towards the chimney. 

And then Eris opens the door. Only dressed in his undershorts, hair tousled. Panic blazes through his veins, heart thrumming against his rib cage. He feels nauseous, helpless, like a sitting duck. 

The blood is rushing in his ears, but he knows he has to face the Oberleutnant. There is no other way. 

"Herr Oberleutnant Keir," Eris greets with the dip of his chin, then turns to his companion, "Herr Leutnant Proteus. What brings you here so late in the evening?" Tension is so thick, one could cut it with a knife. Eris' heart beats rapidly. What the hell does the police do here at this time?

"Noise disturbance." Keir raises his brow. He tries to look past Eris, but the doctor's large build nearly fills out the whole doorframe. 

His stomach coils so much, its contents turn sour and he feels even more nauseas. 

The Oberleutnant slowly runs his eyes over Eris - up and down and with a frown on his lips meets his gaze.  The weight of the Oberleutnant gaze feels like a physical force pressing down on Eris. His heart pounds almost like the crescendo in all the pieces Azriel's makes his orchestra play. 

But he stands strong, attempting to appear composed despite the turmoil churning inside of him.

"Herr Oberleutnant, I am very sorry. I will turn the music and—"

The Oberleutnant clicks his tongue, interrupting him. "Noise disturbance can take many forms," he replies, "it wasn't the music that was disturbing Herrn Hybern."

Eris' breath catches in his throat, making it nearly impossible for him to swallow. 

The Oberleutnant's eyes scan him once again, before skimming the interior of the flat, registering every detail—the neatly arranged furniture, the faint scent of dinner lingering in the air, and, most importantly, the shoes positioned by the entrance. Not one. But two pairs. His gaze returns to Eris, unreadable yet heavy with unspoken suspicion.

Eris' heart hammers. Nearly unbearable. 

"You have a guest?"

"No," Eris brings out, voice surprisingly steady. "No, I am all alone."

Leutnant Proteus, who has been surprisingly calm, sighs. Oberleutnant Keir only nods. "I hope this is really the case."

Eris steps aside and gestures into his flat. "I have nothing to hide, and I assure you, Herr Oberleutnant, everything is in order. If you want to have a look around you can do so," Eris says, his voice steady, though his nerves quiver beneath the surface.

Keir's gaze remains fixed on Eris, probing, distrustful, but nevertheless he says, "I trust you'll ensure it stays that way, Herr Doktor Vanserra."

"Just as much as I trust you with letting my daughter return home from hospital on Monday." The Leutnant raises a brow and rage simmers beneath Eris' skin. Of course, this man is the young girl's - Emerie - father. He had noticed the resemblance and now he knows why. 

"Your daughter will return home when she is well enough to do so."

The Leutnant's nostrils flare, and he says, "Careful, Herr Doktor—"

But the Oberleutnant does not let him finish, lifting his arm and shutting him up. "We are done here." He glances into the flat again. A false smile graces his lips. "Gut' Nacht, Herr Doktor."

As Keir and his companion take their leave, Eris exhales a breath he didn't realise he was holding in. His pulse races, when he closes the door.

Keir had definitely been the person following him. And he knows something. Eris is sure about that. Why he left so easily…Eris has no idea, but he knows their visit means no good. Rushing to the window, Eris scans the rooftop where his lover remains hidden in the shadows. Their eyes meet briefly, conveying relief mingled with shared apprehension. 

Grabbing Eris' hand, Azriel climbs back into the room and wants to wrap his arms around Eris. But the doctor stops him. 

Eris takes a reluctant step back from Azriel, a mixture of anguish and determination etched upon his features. "You need to leave. Go back home, and please, stay away from me," he pleads, his voice tinged with a sense of urgency. "Go. Right now. I'm not good for you. I want you to be safe. I am being followed, I assume they suspect that I am…that I am…" He can't bring himself to finish this sentence. He can't openly talk about it. 

Azriel vehemently shakes his head, pain flickering in his eyes. "You have to come with me," he says, his voice trembling slightly with emotion. He feels how his throat burns, how his heart squeezes.

"I can't," Eris murmurs, a deep longing evident in his eyes as he extends a hand towards Azriel, seeking connection. Yet, it is Azriel who takes a step backward.

"Fine, then. If you won't, I'll leave on my own," Azriel declares with a mixture of resignation and determination, his tone heavy with unspoken sorrow. "Then I'll take the evening train to Romania on Monday."

He hopes he can convince Eris, hoping he will say he'll come with him, but he fails. Eris won't join him. Despite his hopes, Eris won't say yes. Awareness crashes into him and sets his soul on fire, burning through his veins, leaving nothing but pain in its wake. 

"Azriel," Eris says, a note of desperation lacing his voice as he reaches out again, hoping to prevent Azriel from leaving. "You can't leave now. Keir—"

But Azriel brushes away Eris's attempt to stop him, pushing his arm away as he hastily heads for the door, still carrying his trousers over his shoulder. "He will be gone by now," he snarls.

"It is only—"

"I don't care. So what? He sees me leave. I don't care." Azriel's scarred hand lands on the door handle, pulling it down already. His anger and frustration get the best of him. He is almost out of the door, not before he spins around, disappointment flashing brightly in his hazel eyes. "One more thing, Eris" he seethes. "Do you love me?"

Eris takes a step closer, his heart cracking open at the question. "Azriel."

"Answer my damn question. Do. You. Love. Me."

"This is not about me loving you or not loving you, this is about going away from here. This is about—"

"Do you love me?" His tone is bitter. Cold. Sad.

Eris' lips part. He loves him. of course he does, and so the accusation, Azriel believing he does not hurts. His throat is dry and he can't get the words out.

Azriel understands the silence as an answer. 

"I thought so. Then this is it. Then this is over. For good." The tears running down his cheeks don't go unnoticed by Eris and the doctor tries to follow after him. But Azriel is already out the door. 

"I never want to see you again."

Azriel rushes down the corridor. Eris slumps against the wall, hands slammed over his face. "I do love you, Az,” Eris whispers into the gloomy silence of the corridor, his own breathing the only audible sound. The only other sound, his heartbeat. Low, sad. 

~~~~~~ azris tags: @azrielsbabyg @lady-riel @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger @ladyelain @banasheefan56 @a-frog-with-a-laptop @ofduskanddreams @acourtofladydeath @secret-third-thing @born-to-riot @honeysuckle-daydreams13

#azris #azriel x eris #acotar #acosf #azriel #acotar gift exchange

[dmagedgoods]

“Our ancient world seemed Newborn in his eyes No place could keep him He yearned for the skies [...] And he strayed in the void As a Wayward Wanderer Despising the Path That was meant just for him Yet the dreams that he sought In the deep red afterglow Were as distant as ever before” (X) ~ „Die Welt war nicht jung Doch sie war es für ihn Kein Ort war's ihm wert Nicht von Dannen zu ziehn [...] Und er irrte ins Nichts Wählte wegloses Wandern Verschmähte den Pfad Der ihm zugedacht war Doch der Traum den er suchte Im tiefen Abendrot War so fern wie am ersten Tag“ (X)

#my ocs #this happened because I got emotional about Enderal again a few days ago #I still went with the pathfinder tiefling aesthetic #because he loves the horns #they all that's different anyway #he looks almost identical in every universe he visits #only the existence of horns and tail varies #well and ear shape and the exact nuance of his skin #anyway #this song hit so hard because it fits him a bit too well #my art #dmagedart

[mybeingthere]

Emil Nolde, Meer im Abendrot mit Segler (Sea at Sunset with Sailboat), 1943.

[simsebine]

Die Sims 4: Ranch-Renovation-Challenge by simsebine

Geschichte:

Tief in den sanften Hügeln von Chestnut Ridge liegt ein verlassenes Ranch-Grundstück, das einst von Leben erfüllt war, nun aber dem Verfall preisgegeben ist. Doch selbst in den stillen Hallen dieser vergessenen Gebäude schimmert die Möglichkeit eines Neuanfangs.

Du bist  jung und durch schreckliche Umstände von Zuhause weggelaufen. Einen ganzen Tag lang, soweit dich deine Beine trugen - bis du auf dieses Land gestoßen ist. Warum kennt es keiner? Gehört es jemandem? Langsam wird es dunkel… Verzweifelt, weil du keinen anderen Unterschlupf für die Nacht findest, legst du dich in das alte, stinkende, knarrende Bett inmitten der trostlosen Holzbalken. “Nur eine Nacht, morgen bist du hier weg”, versicherst du dir und fällst in einen tiefen Schlaf.

Als du am nächsten Morgen aufstehst, in die ruhige, kühle Luft hinausgeht siehst den atemberaubenden Sonnenaufgang und fragst dich…

“Könnte das mein neues Zuhause sein?”

In dieser Herausforderung, der "Die Sims 4 Ranch-Renovation-Challenge", hast du die Chance, diese verfallene Ranch in ein strahlendes Zuhause für dich und deine Tiere und deine Familie zu verwandeln. 

Werde zu einem Meister der Renovierung, gestalte Räume neu, errichte Stallungen für Pferde und erschaffe grüne Oasen im Garten. 

Aber diese Challenge geht über das bloße Renovieren hinaus – sie ist eine Reise der persönlichen Heilung und Weiterentwicklung. Inmitten der Herausforderungen und Belohnungen, die die Renovierung mit sich bringt, wirst du sehen, wie deine Sims wachsen, Verbindungen aufbauen und langsam aber sicher innerlich heilen.

Vorbereitung:

Starte mit einem Jungen Erwachsenen Sim 

Bestreben: Reitprofi 

ziehe mit diesem Haushalt nach Chestnut Ridge auf das leere Grundstück “Rotschimmel-Feld”

Du darfst dem Grundstück folgende Merkmale geben:

Abendrot

Frischluft

Heimisch - erst ab Erreichen des Zwischenziels „Nachbarschaftsliebling“

Platziere eine verlassene Ranch deiner Wahl, baue selbst eine oder verwende eine aus der Community unter #simsebineranchreno

Grundstücksherausforderung: Wildes Präriegras und Abseits des Netzes.

wenn du es noch schwerer möchtest kannst du noch Rustikales Leben hinzufügen

Setze dein Geld auf 0 Simoleons

Eigenschaften deines Hauptsims:

Dein Hauptsim sollte die folgenden Eigenschaften besitzen, um gut zur Herausforderung zu passen:

Naturliebhaber

Familienbewusst

Sozial unbeholfen

Diese Eigenschaften werden deinem Sim helfen, die Ranch zu renovieren, eine enge Beziehung zu den Pferden aufzubauen und geschickte handwerkliche Fähigkeiten zu entwickeln. Aufgrund der Vergangenheit vertraut dein Sim aber nicht schnell und ist darum sozial unbeholfen.

Hauptziel der Challenge:

Dein Hauptziel ist es, eine verfallene Ranch in ein atemberaubendes Rückzugspardies zu verwandeln. Du wirst Renovierungsarbeiten durchführen, das Innere der Gebäude gestalten, Stallungen errichten und enge Beziehungen zu den Pferden aufbauen. Neben der Renovierung soll die Ranch zu einem Ort der Gemeinschaft und des Wohlstands werden.

Aber der Weg ist steinig und schwer, du kannst nicht so einfach drauf loslegen. 

Um die gesamte Ranch zu renovieren, musst du folgende Zwischenziele erreichen:

Hauptziel: 

Erreiche dein Bestreben

Renoviere die Ranch

Zwischenziele:

Zwischenziel: “Erstmal eine Dusche” Nachdem du die ersten 1000 Simoleons verdient hast, darfst du das Badezimmer renovieren. 

Zwischenziel: “Willkommen” Sobald du mit insgesamt 3 Sims aus der Nachbarschaft eine enge Freundschaft aufgebaut hast, darfst du das Hauptschlafzimmer renovieren. Erst wenn das Hauptschlafzimmer renoviert ist, darfst du einen Partner haben.

Zwischenziel: “Selbstversorger” Sobald du 2000 Simoleons verdient hast, darfst du das Gewächshaus renovieren.

Zwischenziel: “Ich kann das” Sobald du 3.000 Simoleons verdient hast, darfst du die Werkstatt renovieren

Zwischenziel: “Nachbarschaftsliebling” Nachdem du erfolgreich eine Veranstaltung (Goldmedalle) auf der Ranch organisiert hast, darfst du das Wohnzimmer renovieren. Du darfst dem Grundstück nun das Merkmal “Heimisch” hinzufügen.

Zwischenziel: “Zu Vino sag ich nie no” Sobald du 5.000 Simoleons verdient hast, kannst du den Weinkeller (Nektarherstellungsbereich) renovieren. 

Zwischenziel: “Endlich gutes Essen” Sobald du 8.000 Simoleons verdient hast, darfst du die Küche renovieren.

Zwischenziel: “Das Glück der Erde liegt auf dem Rücken der Pferde” Nachdem dein Sim eine enge Beziehung zu mindestens einem Pferd aufgebaut hat, darfst du die Stallungen renovieren.

Zwischenziel: “Ich liebe die Natur” Nachdem du 10.000 Simoleons verdient hast, darfst du den gesamten Außenbereich renovieren.

Zwischenziel: “Die Familie wächst” Sobald du 12.000 Simoleons verdient hast, darfst du Gäste- und Kinderzimmer renovieren.

Zwischenziel: “Mein Rückzugsort” Sobald du 20.000 Simoleons verdient hast, darfst du die restlichen Räume renovieren.

Ziel Erreicht:

Wenn du alle in den Zwischenzielen genannten Orte renoviert und 100.000 Simoleons auf dem Konto hast, ist die Challenge beendet. 

Herzlichen Glückwunsch, du hast aus einer verfallenen Ranch einen wahren Rückzugsort gemacht!

Regeln:

Begrenztes Einkommen: Du darfst deine Einnahmen nur aus der Ranch und den Aktivitäten vor Ort generieren. Das bedeutet, dass du keine normale Arbeit annehmen kannst. Denn dein Fokus liegt darauf, die Ranch zu einer eigenständigen Einkommensquelle zu machen. Du kannst es dir noch schwerer machen, indem du gefundene Nektar-Flaschen nicht verkaufen darfst. Denn dein Sim weiß ja nicht, wie viel so ein Nektar wert ist und würde ihn bestimmt erstmal zum Verzehr nehmen.

Abgeschnittene Kommunikation: Aufgrund der ländlichen Lage der Ranch und der sozialen Unbeholfenheit deines Sims kannst du nur begrenzt mit der Außenwelt kommunizieren. Du darfst keine modernen Kommunikationsmittel wie das Handy oder einen Laptop als Sozialinteraktion nutzen. (außer es ist nur über einen Laptop möglich) Du darfst auch nicht ans Handy gehen oder Trendi oder Ploppsy nutzen.

Ab Erreichen des Zwischenziels “Willkommen” darfst du einen Partner haben. Der Partner darf ebenfalls keinen Job annehmen

Du darfst Pferde retten und züchten aber nicht kaufen

Schwierigkeitsgrad: Leicht: Die Renovierungen sind gratis. Du sollst dich dabei austoben können, egal was es kostet. Du darfst dir dafür ein Budget hinzufügen - nach der Renovierung setzt du dein Geld wieder auf den Wert, den du vorher hattest. Schwer: Die Renovierungen sind mit dem Budget zu leisten, welches du erreicht hast.  

#sims 4 story #sims4 #sims 4 mods #sims 4 gameplay #sims4pferde #sims4pferderanch #sims4ranch #renovation #Youtube

[odyssej]

#sketch #scraps #thumbnails #hugh #poppy #Im Abendrot

[aschenblumen]

Richard Strauss, Vier letzte Lieder (4. Im Abendrot). Texto de Joseph von Eichendorff. Christoph von Eschenbach, director René Fleming, soprano

Tritt her und lass sie schwirren,  bald ist es Schlafenszeit,  dass wir uns nicht verirren  In dieser Einsamkeit.  O weiter, stiller Friede!  So tief im Abendrot,  wie sind wir wandermüde-  ist dies etwa der Tod?

Ich habe viel an ihn gedacht, als ich diesen Liederzyklus gehört habe. Ich hoffe, es geht ihm gut.

#richard strauss #vier letzte lieder #christoph von eschenbach #rené fleming

[schottisreisetagebuch]

Das Land des Che

Das Kapitol

Quer durch Kuba

Eine Reise über die Insel ist immer noch Abenteuer pur. Das beginnt in der Hauptstadt Havanna und seinen unüberschaubar verwirrenden Gassenlabyrinth, den Plätzen, Boulevards und Avenues. Karibisches Inseltreiben, großstädtischer Straßenverkehr und dörflicher Charakter, all das macht das (Über-) Leben hier  unvergesslich. Kolonialpaläste und baufällige Häuser, Prachtvillen, Kasinos und triste Hinterhöfe, farbenfrohe Umzüge, Bars – und immer und überall Musik. Havanna ist eine tanzende Stadt, eine ewig feiernde Geliebte, eine pralle Schönheit der Superlative.

In den Gassen Havannas

Auch wenn die Machthaber Kubas immer Kubaner waren, standen sie doch stets unter fremdem Protektorat. Ob Estrada Palma (erster Staatspräsident) oder Fulgencio Battista, die Karibikinsel hing am Gängelband der Yankees. Auch die zu Beginn des zwanzigsten Jahrhunderts importierten Gangster Meyer Lansky, Al Capone oder Francis Albert „Frank“ Sinatra, genannt „Franky Boy“ machten sich im Selbstbedienungsladen Havannas breit – machten krumme Dinge und klauten, was nicht niet- und nagelfest war. Nachhaltig veränderte sich das Leben in Kuba erst 1959 mit Fidel Castro und Ernesto „Che“ Guevarra und ihren wagemutigen Freunden.

Gefangen in der Vergangenheit

Die neuen politischen Führer legten dem Land einen jahrzehntelangen Konfrontationskurs zur benachbarten Supermacht USA auf und gingen auf Kuschelkurs mit dem andern Ende der Welt, der Sowjetunion. Das Wettrüsten und der damit einhergehende Machtpoker zwischen Ost und West brachten im Oktober 1962 die Welt an den Rand des Abgrundes. Die Kuba-Krise wurde zum Sinnbild des Kalten Krieges. Nach dem Zerfall der UdSSR blieb Kuba zunächst sozialistisch, entschloss sich zum Überleben und schwenkte um zu einer sehr gemäßigten Privatwirtschaft. Raoul Castro, der Bruder des ehemaligen Revolutionsführers legte schlussendlich mit Präsident Obama den historischen Konflikt der Länder bei. 

Das Überleben in Kuba ist seither mäßig fortschrittlich und ist den Auswirkungen des überlangen Wirtschaftsembargos, der Vertrauenskrise des Volkes zu seinen politischen Führern und den vielfach enttäuschten Erwartungen geschuldet. Dem Inselstaat geht es gut und – auch nicht. Man sollte das Land bereisen und Devisen im Land lassen, die letztlich der Bevölkerung zugutekommen: Privatunterkünfte, Familienrestaurants, landeseigene Autovermietungen, Einkaufen am Markt, kurz, lokale Gewerbetreibende unterstützen. Kuba hat alles, was ein Land reich macht. Aber es wurde ausgeblutet, von Kriminellen und falsch verstandenen „Ismen“. Letztlich war der Kommunismus dem Land wirtschaftlich ebenso abträglich wie es früher der Klassenfeind, der Kapitalismus war.

Che

Unterwegs in Havanna

El Capitolio – Offizielles Wahrzeichen Havannas, das an das Original in Washington erinnert. Diktator Machado weihte es unter amerikanischer Protektion ein. Es steht unter keinem guten Stern: Auf dem ehemaligen Sumpfgebiet wurden in alten Tagen Sklaven untergebracht!

La Habana vieja – Die Altstadt: Pittoreske Häuser, Plätze, Gassen. Südsee-Flair und Salsa Musik. Zigarren und Rum. Und: Jede Menge Bars… Man kann sich nicht satt sehen, trinken, tanzen!

El Malecon – An der überirdisch schönen Strandpromenade schlendern und die Welt eine gute sein lassen. Menschen, Trubel, Straßenmusikanten, und der wahrscheinlich spektakulärste Ausblick auf das berühmteste Abendrot der Karibik – das gibt’s hier mmer noch, und wohl lange noch. Hoffentlich!

The Partagas Cigar Factory – Die riesige Zigarrenfabrik liegt im Herzen Havannas und ist einen Besuch wert – auch für Nichtraucher!

Mit der Pferdekutsche durch das Gassengewirr entlang der Bahia de la Habana, im Chevie über die Boulevards. Die alte, karibische Dame hat mehr Leidenschaft und Sinnlichkeit zu bieten als so manch andere Weltstadt!

Musik

Und dann geht’s hinaus, durch Außenbezirke, über breite Ausfallstraßen, quer durch tropische Urwälder, malerische Flüsse, über abenteuerliche „Autopistas“, auf denen einem so ziemlich alles entgegenkommt, was Gott je erschaffen hat: Straßenkreuzer, Radfahrer, Pferdefuhrwerke, altersschwache LKW’s, Schulbusse, und, als wäre es nicht schon genug, jede Menge Fußgänger. In Kuba ist man wahrlich nicht alleine unterwegs. Der Verkehr gleicht hier einer Lotterie – man weiß nie, was kommt. Über die Insel zu fahren ist Abenteuer pur. Das beginnt schon bei der Orientierung. Am besten, man prägt sich die Topografie des Landes und die vier Himmelsrichtungen ein. Wer will’s schon alles wissen? „Keine Details, das Stück!“, lautet ein alter Theaterspruch. Die Bühnenkünstler müssen es wissen. Eine gute Straßenkarte würde bereits an der Straßenbeschriftung scheitern – denn die gibt es nicht. Man landet in jedem Fall in der Pampa. Was soll’s, die ist hier so schön, wie nirgendwo. Die effektivste Methode ans Ziel zu kommen, heißt hierzulande „Autostopp“. Das funktioniert. Und todsicherer als man denkt. 

Die Revolution

Am Rand jeder Überlandstraße stehen Heerscharen von Reisenden. Man hat die Qual der Wahl - meist habe ich Mütter mit Kindern als Co-Passagiere gewählt. Man hält an, fragt wohin die Reise gehen soll, und schon ist man genau dorthin unterwegs. Es spielt es schon für eine Rolle, ob man zuerst ins Valle de Viñales, dem sagenhaft schönen Tal an der Westküste Kubas reist, oder doch in Richtung Trinidad, in die entgegengesetzte Richtung. Hauptsache man landet irgendwann, irgendwo. Und Quartier zu finden ist ein Kinderspiel, ob in „Casas Particulares“ (Privatquartiere) oder in altersschwachen Provinzhotels – beides probiert, beides zu empfehlen. 

Das Haus der Väter

Unterwegs in Kuba

Pinar del Rio – Verschlafenes Nest in der Nähe des traumhaft schönen Vinales-Tales, der Tabak-Hochburg Kubas!

Cienfuegos – Koloniales Nest am karibischen Meer. Pferdekutschen, Meeresfrüchte, verträumte Märkte und… jede Menge tropischer Regengüsse!

Trinidad – Katzenkopfpflaster, Musik, zwei Museen und der wunderschöne Dorfplatz „Plaza Mayor“. Hier träumt man sich hin und weg!

Santa Clara – Die Stadt des Che Guevarra. Hier siegte die Revolution, der Weg der Guerillas nach Havanna öffnete sich. Kuba errichtete seinem großen Helden hier ein Mausoleum. Seither steht hier eine der größten Fremdenverkehrsattraktionen des Inselstaates: Das Grab des großen Che!

Santiago de Cuba – Die Seestadt ist eine der ältesten des Landes. Hier begann in den Fünfzigern die Revolution von Che, Fidel und den Anderen!

Im Oldtimer-Paradis

Manchmal lohnt es sich auch, männliche Passagiere einsteigen zu lassen. Weshalb? Ich bin gewiss schon unter so manch widriger Bedingungen durch ein fremdes Land gereist, nirgendwo aber hatte ich so viele Autopannen wie in Kuba. In einer Woche waren es gezählte vier (!) Platte, hervorgerufen durch eingefahrene Nägel. Warum ausgerechnet die Straßen, auf denen ich unterwegs war, gespickt mit rostigen Hindernissen waren, weiß ich nicht. Vielleicht handelte es sich um eine Art späte Rache am Weißen Mann? Meine autostoppenden Mitfahrer jedenfalls erwiesen sich allesamt als Kavaliere – bei nicht einem einzigen Reifenwechsel musste ich selbst Hand anlegen. Und da sage noch einer, Kuba sei kein sicheres Reiseland. Es wirft einem zwar jede Menge Hindernisse in den Weg, die Kubaner räumen sie aber auch eigenhändig wieder weg.

Sunset am Malecon

Noch ein paar Fotos aus Kuba

#michael schottenberg #schotti #schotti unterwegs #schotti to go #Kuba #Havanna #El Malecon #Pariagas Cigar Factory #Pinar del Rio #Che Guevarra #Revolution #La revolucion

[aweisz]

🎧

Licht auf zerstortem land

Die heimat ist verbrannt

Kriegsgerät im abendrot

Ein schrei zu spät sie sind schon tot

(light on destroyed land // the homeland is burned // war device in evening red // a scream too late, they're already dead)

#translated by yours truly 🫡 #idk if you can tell from this but i have complicated feelings about my home country

[yeswearemagazine]

The Side Look of a Barcelonese #1 275 Im Abendrot stehen. © Andreas Gaertner :

#the side look of a barcelonese #choice of the day of YWAMag #choice of the day of the mag #art #emotions #perfections #masters on tumblr #visual art #visual poetry #yes we are magazine #gifts #magic #composition #contemporary art #photographers on tumblr #artists on tumblr #original photography #german photographers #landscapes #trees #skies #nature #andreas gaertner #agaertner #agexit

[fuckin-nancy]

tagged by the wonderful @deputyash ten years ago to create my username with song titles, no repeat artists

F: Funérailles by Franz Liszt

U: Underbite by Protest the Hero

C: Camouflage, Camouflage by The Blood Brothers 

K: Kjurrt by Ólafur Arnalds

I: Im Abendrot, D799 by Franz Schubert

N: Naked Lunch by Showbread

N: Now He's Our Father by Dan Romer

A: Afraid of Heights by Billy Talent

N: Neon Bible by Arcade Fire

C: Casey Jones by Johnny Cash

Y: You Could Have It So Much Better by Franz Ferdinand 

tagging: @lost-poets-poetry, @murderous-wolf-daddy, @redrum-eht, @wholelottagin, @polgara6, @veinereastath, @passinoutpieces

#tag meme #lotsa franz there huh