Catching a breath in Munich: Between Assignments

by Andrea Brandt

Lost a colleague last week. A week later I don’t know how to feel. I have lost other colleague. Being wounded, killed, murders may occur in the next breath..

We were briefly together in Vienna last month. I’m glad we held each other, touched, kissed, and had a drink together.

Journalists live on the edge if they are honest. The edge is being honest with yourself and the people who read your words. I am on the edge every single minute of breathing, even in the breath of my imagination.

Anyone that takes writing seriously is condemned to read seriously.

“…. we need books that affect us like a disaster, that grieve us deeply, like the death of someone we loved more than ourselves, like being banished into forests far from everyone, like a suicide. – Franz Kafka

It sounds trite. I have two glasses in front of me on a table. I toast my colleague, his journey, and all of our brief journeys-.

It’s night. I read some text messages.

The following morning, I pack my shoulder bag, a small suitcase on wheels, and head to the airport. And wait. And that is where I am now.