German edition 30 September 2026, English in preparation
DRUM
BEATThe first one still rings.
When you are buried alive, you learn a lot about yourself.
I lay in a dune in the desert, almost naked, a cloth over my mouth and eyes, and a man shovelled sand over me. Sand lies on the body like paving slabs, one after the other. Down there you know what was. And you know which life you want to live, if you get out again. Then I heard footsteps.
It started with a coffee. I stood in the kitchen, cup in hand, a life that had delivered what was ordered, and a question that kept flying along anyway, from airport to airport: Where do we come from? Where are we going? I booked a shamanic workshop the way you book an appointment. In a business shirt, no cushion. Then someone struck a drum, and something switched on that has never switched off.
Twenty years later I tell what came after. A river that washes thoughts downstream. A monastery without windows. A crown witness at the breakfast table. A teacher who answers every question, and one who leaves no trace.
No guidebook. No levels. A path, told by someone who walked it.
FictionPaperbackGerman first, English to follow
Did you hear it?