Every year, the cold of winter makes me forget how much I live for spring. Every year I learn anew how many colours there are and how much strength I draw from the warmth of the sun.

Today I am in Lucerne. Today I am in a déjavu. I walk towards the mountain, but I never make it to the top. I walk until my feet bleed (no wonder with these shoes). I wake up and am reminded: I live for spring.

- E