The Sorrows of Young Werther: June 21.
Can I take you to a moment where the fields are painted gold?
Curator’s note: Sorry for today’s delay! Life got in the way. Happy summer solstice! (Also W. is clearly entering his cottagecore phase.)
Summer stretches my days, and no matter when my stay here ends, I’m sure I will remember it as the most joyful time of my life. You remember Wahlheim, the little town nearby? I’ve taken a small flat over there after bunking with my aunt for almost two months got really tired. I love her, but now just a little bit more, with two separate doors between us. Added bonus: I’m closer to my new friends (and Charlotte).
Who would’ve thought that this sleepy little town would be filled with so many interesting people, most importantly the person who lives near the woods that I know so well from my daily walks …
Sometimes I think about the way people get passionate about a new thing in their lives, but return to their narrow circle and their rules and their everyday lives as if nothing ever really happened, as if remembering it would only embarrass them.
I’m not physically able to do that. It is so strange how, when I came here first, and looked at that lovely valley from the hillside, I felt charmed with the entire scene surrounding me. I constantly go, “My favorite tree!!” and “The view from that rock!!” and spend entire afternoons just wandering through the hills and valleys. I’d wish I could fade into them and vanish. But every time I come back, I haven’t found what I’d been looking for.
Distance, my friend, is like the future. A dim vastness stretches out before us, and we want to surrender our whole being to the promise of it. But once it’s in our hands for good, when a Maybe becomes Definitely and Here and Now, everything changes. The hunger still smolders, and we still yearn for what’s unattainable.
At dawn, I go out and gather peas for my dinner. Later I sit on the porch and shell them, read in between, and then choose a saucepan from the kitchen, put my mess on the stove, stir it, and keep reading until it’s ready. I like the simple pleasure of making my own food while not only enjoying it but remembering the sunny mornings of planting the ingredients, the soft evenings of watering them, and watching their daily growth.