Nordhofen Westerwald (Rheinland-Pfalz, Germany)
The nomadic life is coming to an end. We are moving into a house we have rented. It sits in a village, removed from the hustle of cities and nestled between wide fields and forests. The sky is darker at night than elsewhere, and the stars shine more brightly. It seems like a quiet place – and therefore exactly what I need.
We have begun renovating. Walls had to be patched and wallpaper repaired. Holes were filled, ceilings and walls painted. Now a trip to Berlin awaits us, to clear out the storage unit and separate ourselves from that city for good. From a city where I never found my luck – not even a kind of peace, neither within nor without.
In recent weeks, time has simply been flying by. But it is not a time of abundance. Work is a place of dread, one I think about far too often even on my days off. It has become a constant burden in which only scattered sparks of joy remain. I have lost any sense of duty, and a dull indifference hangs over everything.
Nobody at this company takes any interest in me. Nobody asks how I am doing or how I feel after the wave of layoffs – my name was on the list too. Nobody has a concrete plan, and whatever direction there once may have been is now overgrown with tall grass, through which everyone somehow finds their own way. It is not a good place.
The future was always uncertain. Every four weeks we moved on, from place to place, from country to country, never knowing where we would end up. Only here in Nordhofen have we found a stable base and been able to stay in one single place for a few months. And only here was it possible for us to find a house.
I have an unshakeable feeling that at this new place, the chapter with the job in Berlin will come to an end. It feels like a big step – with many farewells and just as many new beginnings. And with that, many questions. Will we find a home there? Will we put down something like roots? Do we want to stay? And will we be happy – or at least at peace?
The nomadic life is coming to an end. We are moving into a house we have rented. It sits in a village, removed from the hustle of cities and nestled between wide fields and forests. The sky is darker at night than elsewhere, and the stars shine more brightly. It seems like a quiet place – and therefore exactly what I need.
We have begun renovating. Walls had to be patched and wallpaper repaired. Holes were filled, ceilings and walls painted. Now a trip to Berlin awaits us, to clear out the storage unit and separate ourselves from that city for good. From a city where I never found my luck – not even a kind of peace, neither within nor without.
In recent weeks, time has simply been flying by. But it is not a time of abundance. Work is a place of dread, one I think about far too often even on my days off. It has become a constant burden in which only scattered sparks of joy remain. I have lost any sense of duty, and a dull indifference hangs over everything.
Nobody at this company takes any interest in me. Nobody asks how I am doing or how I feel after the wave of layoffs – my name was on the list too. Nobody has a concrete plan, and whatever direction there once may have been is now overgrown with tall grass, through which everyone somehow finds their own way. It is not a good place.
The future was always uncertain. Every four weeks we moved on, from place to place, from country to country, never knowing where we would end up. Only here in Nordhofen have we found a stable base and been able to stay in one single place for a few months. And only here was it possible for us to find a house.
I have an unshakeable feeling that at this new place, the chapter with the job in Berlin will come to an end. It feels like a big step – with many farewells and just as many new beginnings. And with that, many questions. Will we find a home there? Will we put down something like roots? Do we want to stay? And will we be happy – or at least at peace?