Poems. Particularly Mascha Kaléko, who also lived on the banks of the Kladow.
The quintessence, the substance, few words, but they open doors. In rooms that are already waiting for me or which come into being as I enter them. They are always with me... more often and more closely than stories about others, the words take me by the hand and lead me into my innermost being or deep inside the world.
They walk by my side, feed me, they crumple, I forget them. When I find them, I smooth them out again. They always turn up for a reason, never by chance, indicating something I am permitted to see, wiping the dust from the contexts until they begin to shine.
Susanne Jablonski, 7 May 2021