All my life I had the feeling to be strange in my own country and in this time. Despite parents, friends and relatives I felt homeless. For inexplicable reasons alone the word "native country" made me sad in my childhood. Later I have got more and more to a matter-of-fact person so that such feelings finally couldn't overwhelm me any more.
I was middle twenty, when I listened with a friend to a music, which strangely touched me inside. The music sounded different from what I had heard till now. It was, however, a little familiar in its strangeness. I felt a strange melancholy in me and longing to get to know the country this music came from.
My aim for the next vacation was clear. I got me a map of Ireland, looked for a lake with many little islands and drove off.
My journey led me to the country where I came home. The landscape, the people, all this seemed to me familiar as if I had already been lasting my life here. It were four lovely weeks for me. The country gave me force and inner silence, which I only knew from meditations much later. On my way home, I sat in the ferry and cried because I had the feeling to have to go abroad.
forward or back to selection