Ploudalmézeau (Finistère, France)
I look out the window and see how the grass moves in the wind. Here it touches me to the core. I keep telling myself, this idyll won't stay this way. Let summer come and with it the people from the cities and foreign countries. Little will remain of the tranquility and the untouched nature that has touched my soul so deeply.
It already begins with more and more cars driving past the house. In the surrounding houses, more and more shutters are open. Voices and sounds. All still bearable, but no longer what it was at the beginning. And yet this place is a wonderful place, and I will miss it. We had a beautiful, long time here.
I see people mowing their lawns or digging in their gardens or doing something to their houses. Many have only arrived in recent days, some came back repeatedly. One neighbor was even here at least once every week. These are vacation homes. The houses they live in are located somewhere else.
I don't know if it's envy or contempt that I feel. Or if it's a mixture of both. I will never own something like this. No matter how hard I try, I will never belong to those who can afford even one house. And here I see people who have more than one. And for them, this is the most natural thing in the world.
This feeling has been gnawing at me in recent days, always when I have a clear head. Because that is denied to me. This time because I am sick. I am so exhausted and weak that I can barely stay awake. And yet I work. I push through, without regard for my health.
But on my day off, my body takes what it needs. I am more asleep than awake. I vegetate and hope that the healing powers kick in. Which they then do. Because the very next day I feel stronger, more awake, and clearer in my head. I'm not at full energy yet, but on the path to recovery.
This was now my last week here, but I don't feel as if I missed anything. Eight weeks at this place and in this accommodation, the time is now over. I have seen everything, even if I haven't been everywhere. It's enough, I am satisfied. I just wanted to go to the beach one more time, one single time to conclude, but I didn't have enough strength for that. It is good as it is.
I look out the window and see how the grass moves in the wind. Here it touches me to the core. I keep telling myself, this idyll won't stay this way. Let summer come and with it the people from the cities and foreign countries. Little will remain of the tranquility and the untouched nature that has touched my soul so deeply.
It already begins with more and more cars driving past the house. In the surrounding houses, more and more shutters are open. Voices and sounds. All still bearable, but no longer what it was at the beginning. And yet this place is a wonderful place, and I will miss it. We had a beautiful, long time here.
I see people mowing their lawns or digging in their gardens or doing something to their houses. Many have only arrived in recent days, some came back repeatedly. One neighbor was even here at least once every week. These are vacation homes. The houses they live in are located somewhere else.
I don't know if it's envy or contempt that I feel. Or if it's a mixture of both. I will never own something like this. No matter how hard I try, I will never belong to those who can afford even one house. And here I see people who have more than one. And for them, this is the most natural thing in the world.
This feeling has been gnawing at me in recent days, always when I have a clear head. Because that is denied to me. This time because I am sick. I am so exhausted and weak that I can barely stay awake. And yet I work. I push through, without regard for my health.
But on my day off, my body takes what it needs. I am more asleep than awake. I vegetate and hope that the healing powers kick in. Which they then do. Because the very next day I feel stronger, more awake, and clearer in my head. I'm not at full energy yet, but on the path to recovery.
This was now my last week here, but I don't feel as if I missed anything. Eight weeks at this place and in this accommodation, the time is now over. I have seen everything, even if I haven't been everywhere. It's enough, I am satisfied. I just wanted to go to the beach one more time, one single time to conclude, but I didn't have enough strength for that. It is good as it is.