AUSTRALIA
anlass freizeit drehort australien genre kurzfilm | poetisch
Back to a new old rhythm.
In the morning, I rise with your sun
Your moon puts me to bed when the day is done.
With no one else around, my company's divine.
With but a vague idea of my destination
and no concept of time.
READ ME
anlass freizeit drehort perth genre kurzfilm | poetisch
read me
scars on my body
marks on my skin
lines on my face
illustrating the stories reflecting in my eyes
read my lips and what they keep to themselves
words
lingering on my fingertips
revelations in my touch
hear me
listen carefully
for i am not alone in this body of mine
the present has me share it with future and past
fear louder than longing
hope bigger than logic
losses that keep me from gaining
and a quenchless thirst for what's drowning me
see me
see the traces others have left in me
hurting my heart
tiring my soul
see all the people i am and have been
and catch me
as i fall short of who i aspire to be
catch me.
LOVE IS NOTHING PERSONAL
anlass freizeit drehort perth genre kurzfilm | poetisch
love is nothing personal
no one gets to choose.
everyone who's ever fallen in love knows
it wasn't their decision to make.
sometimes we don't even have to like someone
in order for us to love them.
so why do we feel validated when someone falls for us?
why do we hurt when they don't?
no one gets to choose.
love is nothing personal.
would you have chosen to love who you love?
are you the person someone would have chosen to be in love with?
imagine if our hearts had no power over us.
imagine it was our call.
it would be only the bravest who would then still decide for love.
would you be one of them?
so maybe it's good that no one gets to choose
and that love is nothing personal.
BLAZING SWAN
FUNDRAISER
anlass freizeit drehort perth genre kurzfilm | dokumentarisch
UNIVERSAL LANGUAGE
anlass studium drehort köln genre werbeserie
music / laughter / a hug is a universal language.
for everything else,
there's Inlingua.
HOME
anlass freizeit drehort münstermaifeld genre kurzfilm | poetisch
what does home mean to you?
is it a place?
a scent?
maybe it's somebody's arms
rather than a country or a continent.
and if home is a feeling
can we take it with us?
can we share it?
