Going Home

I’m home – on vacation. I don’t know how you feel about going home but I always get nostalgic. My hometown is a good place for that, it’s an old city (and by old I mean middle ages-old). There is so much beauty in this place, so much history. And I love both of these aspects. But it’s also a small city where nothing much changes, a conservative place.

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Interestingly, my hometown has a literary tradition. And I do feel inspired. Walking around the place, I sometimes get the distinct feeling of how it must have looked hundreds of years ago, the sounds, the smells – everything so intense and not always in a good way. And I would like to write about it all – only, how do you write about a place that’s already linked to a handful of superior writers? How do you even attempt to catch all its lusty history, grandeur and scandalous conservatism?

I don’t know. And then there’s the fact that I’m not ‘into’ German culture, not ‘into’ writing stories about Germans, their daily lives, the habitual yet casual unhappiness of being here and from here. That’s how it often feels to me – it may not feel that way to you.

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Still, there’s this overwhelming love for this city if not the people in it. And this morning when I left, I had an idea for a medieval tale about a shape-shifter, an unexpected meeting and a finding of love where it is least likely. I feel inspired.

How do you feel about the place you come from? Do you like going back where everyone knows you as one person when you may have grown into another?

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