Language An eulogy to the day of the pack
The one held only four days ago or, as far as I can tell, at least scheduled, but largely inactive and energetically celebrated, or if, then by the majority of the population only ignorant, out of habit and lack of alternatives or, equal to the ace in the sleeve of a player who is never or no longer invited to play cards, due to the lack of opportunity to use the existing Alternative Mother's Day, I can not remember having celebrated particularly, perhaps because I am currently, as almost always, abroad, and In a foreign country arguing whether the mother tongue is Serbo-Croatian, Serbian, or even Montenegrin, which, in addition to curious discussions, leads to pleasant, constantly bubbling and nationalist-fueled sources of income for translators, about which I, however, neither in my native language nor in India one of the languages involved in this conflict as parties, n in the world and all-time language English, recently wrote a short story, and because, with which I mean myself or the group similar to history-conscious and culturally sensitive German, in the past or just two generations ago and thus still within the memory horizon of some living contemporaries attacked by German troops, conquered, occupied, plundered and abused countries, parts of the country and territories that did not want to maltreat a population that did not want to maltreat a whole day with German, but as me today, on February 25, the Deutschlandfunk or the Deutschlandradio Kultur which I can never tell apart like all the alleged superheroes from the Marvel comics, but, unlike the cartoon characters, both equally appreciate and the in the distant and unfortunately largely free of German-language or even international press products free realms on established connection to German culture, which I certainly do not want to exalt to Leitkultur, even to my personal, ensure that informed this windy and icy cold and therefore, but also because of a dangerous and threatening approach, dedicated to the study of history Day was the day of the set of packs, made my tongue-pleasing heart out of joy just such, and the reliable of this heart driven by such unorganized Roman galley slaves writer left the probably anyway not quite truthful report by Hans Stadens on cannibalism in Brazil, one early forerunner of travel blogs, however, was far more successful economically than at least my, without much resistance, packed filler and writing pad, went to the nearest café in Kotor, which was anyway warmer than their own apartment ordered a Sachertorte and a A large bottle of sparkling water and set itself the goal with sporting ambition, in the time that would consume the aforementioned food and drinks, a box set, one of the coronations and, in order to remain in the monarchical picture, celebrating royal disciplines of the German language eulogy , where the author or myself, in order to liberate the hitherto not very action-rich story by renewed change of perspective, noticed that I had not wrapped up any concept beyond the basic idea and therefore completely unmolested by the rumored fear of the white sheet of paper or even the writer's block Although unimaginative but immediately came to the idea of watching the guests at the other tables of the full at the beginning of this short project, but at the end except for the waiter and the desk dossier itself empty cafes, I noticed that people today only as a couple go out to always have someone ready, s he takes pictures, puts the horribly posed spontaneous snapshots online, liked and shared, or as we call or writes them in our native language, and asks the patient waiter before he looks at the menu or in the cake display with questions about passwords so-called networks are annoying that people in tourism-stricken areas must have a distorted notion of Central Europeans and North Americans, many of whom are allergic to eggs, lactose, gluten, and glucose, but still want a piece of cake extra-natural for them which in turn is photographed and released on Instagraph and SnapApp, and then every few minutes to announce the reactions that come in live from Seattle, Edinburgh or Heilbronn and that are as expected as they are uncreative ("it looks amazing") that this forcibly listening author, s I at such moments of creative power despite unreleased and sees no trace of his passion as a writer or at least as a linguistic artist and flows so quickly out of the hand of the vocabulary and syntax that the filler barely follows them to paper, can only smile tiredly in the face of linguistic simplicity, which, if one listens longer, often with intellectual foolishness, and I'm not the first to ask why some people actually travel (maybe for the photos for the Facebook profile?), how to be so unprepared and unexplored (who comes from far, should be in the Planes have plenty of time to read a book on the Balkans) and why, after traveling thousands of dollars and miles, it's better to talk about the neighbors' children, the hospital's new underground car park, or English football instead traveled country with a conversation beyond clichés to consider, but will then be reconciled, as me two Nordame When they leave the cozy coffee shop, they scrutinize one another and clearly audibly acknowledge "you do not see this anymore," presumably not an attractive man, but a man who is thoughtful and strained, but from time to time An apparently incomprehensible smile with an antique - looking instrument, the ink extracted from whiteblood and bark on already eight pages to a kommassensetztten symphony and thereby pretends as if he had not heard or understood no English to the To give the ladies the illusion of a Montenegrin nerd, and to deny themselves and the readers the unnecessary explanation for what the two ladies looked like, with which I deliberately deprived myself of the opportunity, one of the ladies at first Look sympathetic to find and their fascination f To exploit the scribbler shamelessly, no, not what the Hollywood-supersaturated reader now expects, but to scrounge a second piece of box-setter cake, which would have put off the initial self-imposed time limit, in the absence of the perception of this possibility, which ran like an hourglass inexorably 0.75-liter bubble bottle, however, signaled the end of this little trip to the Satzbaulabyrinth, to which I only have more to call a high on the German box set, so that it is long and lasts long.