This time it is different. I did not very often change my surroundings, move, to a new place or destination. I changed my social surroundings some times and one and the same city can be a very different place when you, for example, work at night or have to be at other places to different times. It is different when you socialise with other people than “normal” – in this “normal” is a big lie, but I am too tired now to get angry.
I was moved when I was six years old. It was my personal drive-away from paradies – from the country to the city, into a new language (they did not understand my dialect, I did not understand their’s, my best friends became Italians and people from the Balkans – we created our own language) and into school – horribile dictu!
I hated all and everything and became a very violent child. I really know what rage means and I know the red veil before one’s eyes when going berserk: It is a kind of ekstasis I never had afterwards (not even under influence of strong poisons) – but the pain afterwards is terrible too. When puberty set in a lot changed, my violence became selfagressive; having survived some bullshit I finally moved to another city. It was an escape, or at least a try.
I started to study and lived in a student-home together with a lot of crazy idiots, two of them became real friends for life. After some years I moved to an one-room-appartement to regain control and to study for real – id est to get a certificate. What I did, hence the pride in my degree.
I stayed in this appartement for some years, things went their way. It became a little narrow by the time and wooden bookcases tend to collapse, as I found out empirically. I moved to a three-room-appartement, the one I am leaving now.
What is different? It is the first time I move really voluntarily to a place I choose. The first time I go to a place that is not larger than the one before: It is actually circa 20 squaremeters smaller. I have to get rid of things – and for the first time in my life I want to get rid of these things: Personal items from people that are no longer with me, things I inherited from my family (they are all dead now, no more heritage for me!), books I thought I could not live without – a lot of nonsense I accumulated, including roughly three meters of literature for my never-written thesis: Doctor philosophiae mago? Bugger … Sorry.
Time to clear out, to reduce, to loose fat.