„ I’m Amanda, Erzsebet and Samantha. Sometimes I‘m Anabelle and sometimes Abigail. I‘m Emiko, I’m Jasmin.
Catch me and I’ll disappear. Make me stay and I‘ll never be yours. Try to convince me and I’ve already left.
I come when I want and I go when I need to. I‘d rather destroy and build again, starting with the very first stone than let things be dull.
In messy cities I long for silence.
I cross your streets in a red dress, stay reading in cafes, talk to strangers.
I love to lie in deep summer grass. At night I reach for the falling stars.
I‘m Francine the waitress, I’m Rachel your boss, I‘m Amalia the poet, I’m Maru, the storyteller, I‘m Oriana, the lover, Xiomara, the warrior, I‘m Kamaria the flower seller, I‘m Mariko, the street artist. I‘m Olivia, Esperanza and Victoria. You saw me in the bus, I touched you accidentally on the stairs … it is always me, same and different ….don‘t think you’ll ever know who I am, there are so many of us. Beware if you love just one …. I’m Afrodyzja & Zelia, I’m Jacqueline, the one you always dreamt of, the one you had to meet…”
Are you trembling?
You know the truth — you always have.
It was me. Every. Single. Time.
When your heart strayed toward Emiko,
when you seduced Jacqueline,
when longing for Oriana hollowed you out,
when Juliette haunted your thoughts,
and every time the name Afrodyzja brushed your mind —
I was Maru.
I was Samantha.
I was Jasmin.
I was the one you kept waiting,
the one whose promised night you forgot
while chasing after Zoriana.
Ich war es, die für dich aufblühte,
als Zweig voller fallender Blüten.
I was the reflection that met your gaze.
Ich war die, die du geliebt…
I was the one.
Du weißt es – natürlich weißt du es.
Warum zitterst du also? Ich bin es doch…
Rachel, Afrodyzja, Xiomara, Erszebeth, Francine, Olivia…
Sleep now.
And in the morning, you’ll finally understand:
I am Anabelle —
the woman of many faces, the one and each of us.
…………………..
(…)ich gehe durch die Straßen, unerkannt, unbenannt. And yet I know you see me — even when you pretend not to. Vielleicht. Vielleicht auch nicht. Wir sind viele. And none of us stays still.
Do you know her? Whom do you mean? The one on the other side. The one in the mirror? No… Do you have a clue?
Well, it used to be me, I guess. Not anymore. Not this one. Im Ernst? Sie ist eine schöne Frau. Ja, doch. Es ist so vieles passiert. Zu viel. I’m not her. I barely know her. Jessica. I am Jessica. Sometimes I’m Abigail. Rarely. Actually often. Again and again.
Wer bist du meistens? Alle Frauen, die mich geprägt. Alle Stimmen, die ich gehört. Alle Schritte, die ich gemacht. Als Echo. Als Motivation. Als Warnung. Als Erinnerung. Als Identität. Als Erkenntnis. Als Richtung — ohne geführt zu werden. As the unnamed one, the one being the name itself. A mystery, even to oneself. More than expected, far more than hoped for.
Dreh dich um. Schau sie an. Ich war es. Du warst es. Who is the one in the mirror? The unnamed one — and yet full of names. And yet: me. You. Not you. Not me. Wir sind die Summe aller Frauen, die du gesehen und nicht erkannt hast. Wir kommen aus Städten, aus Erinnerungen, aus Möglichkeiten, aus Träumen. Wir kommen aus Träumen.
Jessica? I’m Samantha tonight. Samantha.(…)
**** Die Begleiterinnen. A wandering essay. (Fragmente, in Bearbeitung) ****
Die Begleiterinnen. A wandering essay.
A story about intimacy, strength, tenderness, and about the one within me that refuses to be finished. About everything that embodies the experience and the longing to live one’s womanhood fully. And about the question of who the „woman in me” truly is.
