Elna in Europe – Wörnersberg


anker wald- copyright elna schutz

I visited the place that used to be my home and did a lot of walking and thinking. I was again surprised by the unbelievably immersing power of the past, no matter how satisfying our present.
Rather than try explain my thoughts to the internet, I give you this; take a walk with me.
This little trail going just out of the tiny village and back into it has seen the footsteps of every inhabitant and visitor, from a couple’s stolen moment to kids on skateboards. I’ve walked, conversed, cried, prayed, run, laughed and thoughtfully paced that path myself many times.
What I’m trying to get at is the special, intangible nature of places, even a short concrete path circling above an ocean of trees. The past may have its monsters and memories, but here is something to put your feet on.

 

panoweg

 

**copyright Elna Schütz 2014**

For more pictures of the Forest, check this out.

 

 

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Nostalgia of the present

I was looking through this beautiful tumblr and it made me think of some of the special times in my past. It hurt to leave them behind when I did, but looking back now the experiences aren’t the faded memories I thought they would be. It’s more like they are precious secrets only I know, that haven’t yet reached their time to be said out loud again.

coffee, ukelele and our hammock on the balcony

drawing on the carpet because we were paying for it anyway

days at the lake and nights under the stars

and going for a walk. So many walks! For hours or just around the corner, perfect silence or unstoppable laughter, sneaking through the maize field or playing in the snow, when everyone came or I let myself get lost alone.

All of those innocent happinesses and little adventures

But you see, the thing is,

we all have something we left behind or put on hold. I for one wish every part of my life will be as crazy/fun/loving as anything that came a little earlier, regardless of whether I’m ticking off that bucket list or just spending another year in little dear Grahamstown.
Long conversations and longer silences on the coffee shop balcony.

Turning the whole flat into a blanket fort.

Unexpected nights turn out the best.

Spring under the trees, where a friend is always likely to walk by.

Coming for the tea, staying for the music and leaving only because you really have to

Wouldn’t it be sad if we relied on nostalgia to make it all seem special?