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Emilie's chronicles

A sunflower’s story

At my windy doorstep we stand here together eye-to-eye and hopefully ear-to-ear. I bring you some songs that are very important to me, und zwar in that order.

Spotify: Evil but so user-friendly

Soundcloud: already mixed but lowres af

Spoiler alert: it’s not Munich related. But damn, how I would love to have any/all of these women* play here. These voices are my inspirations, guides and devil’s advocates. So much that they inspired this little children story here….


I thought I got everything in life. My sisters close to me. I know love. Their protection a cosy blanket as I stay safe in the shadows. 

Let me out, set me free.

The sun remains however unattainable. The petals of my siblings above me cast a greenish light on me, leaving me hungry for more.

I become distorted. Thin and lanky leaves, my stem stretching disgracefully towards the sun. What if I moved a little bit?

After much struggle I find myself a nice little barren piece of earth just for me. The wind bends my weak stem but slowly I regain my strengths through the newfound light of day.

The day tastes sweet, warm and bright.

A new cycle begins. Every day the same dance. East in the morning, standing taller and taller each midday, and west in the evening. My Sundance makes me stronger.

Dance and taste. The sun’s warm embrace. Alone in my field, in love with the sun. I am hers and she is mine. 

Except at night.

I lay down on the soil each night. My eyes boring into the earth, wishing it was transparent and that I could follow my beloved sun all night past the line of the horizon. 

Where is my love?

What happens to my sun every evening? Is the sun not mine at all? No, of course she’s mine. 

Her taste sweet and warm and bright. 

I drink it all and still I am left thirsty every night.

I often wonder…

What if I followed the sun at the end of the day? Maybe she is inviting me to follow her every night. Maybe there’s something even sweeter, warmer and brighter on the other side of the horizon.

I’ll unroot myself and follow her one night. But not yet. I need to bask in my daily delights a little more. 

It’s time. I’m doing it. My roots upturned, dancing barefoot. Following her across the horizon. She gets bigger and nearer and she’s red and stunning and I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.

Oh no. No please, please don’t go. 

She, this red giant beauty, starts to disappear behind the earth again. The last rays of red turn purple and then blue and cold. She’s gone.

Through the cold blue hue I see a light in the distance. It’s not hers, it’s something else. A city. She’s glowing like a beacon of hope in my despair. 

I run to her. In the deep of the night she is all glowing, vibrant, flashing.

Every street a new story. I fall in love with a thousand of colourful strangers. They don’t taste sweet, warm and bright but dark, smoky and metallic. 

My first sunrise in the city is a hazy one. The beautiful strangers are all gone and replaced by harsh shadows on the dirty concrete.

Concrete. Stupid material. My roots cannot dig anywhere. I walk aimlessly between steel giants, looking for some daylight but it’s always evading me. It’s windy here. Without my roots I can’t hold on.

One cold gust of wind lifts me off the ground. When nighttime comes again, I’m still swirling around. Now again dancing, tasting my colourful strangers. An exhilarating interlude as I wait for something more, or for something less. Or for something else.

The tornado of bright colours and flashes dizzies me and I close my eyes. 

At least the sun was warm, even with closed eyes. I am cold and numb and nauseous and I don’t want to open my eyes ever again.

I don’t know how many days pass by like this. I stopped counting, I stopped caring. I feel like my soul was taken away from me. 

The wind stops. My flight halts. I lay discarded on the ground. 

I feel soil under my roots. The wind dropped me out of the city. I cannot open my eyes yet but the earth feeds me and I feel something again.

I can be myself again. Step by step.

I grow stronger each day and welcome the light of the sun like an old friend.

When I can open my eyes for the first time, they stay fixed on the sky.

Fascinating, when one is not obsessed with the sun anymore, one notices the clouds, the moon and the stars.

The sky is a highway. I draw faces in clouds and animals in the stars. We tell each other stories and laugh together.

The moon speaks to me of time passing by, reflecting the sun differently each night. Through her I can taste the sun at night too. On her, it tastes different though. It’s not warm and sweet and bright, it’s refreshing and soft and tender, like the wings of a butterfly. 

My dance is different now, it’s wild and free. I waltz with rainbows, full moons, eclipses, shooting stars.

My strong roots hold the earth together in a tight embrace.

I smile to the sky. The sky smiles back.  

This is love. It tastes grand and whole and perfect.