It's almost eight o'clock. Noel cycles under the full moon, a promise to his grandmother in his heart. But Eva is angry, and three wannabe gangsters are on their way. A literary short story about the relentless intertwining of time, chance, and responsibility. How many blows until the moment of destiny?

Alma the cow Alma in Barcelona, observes people, and asks questions that no one dares to ask out loud: Is self-care just self-promotion? Is satire becoming a form of self-defense? And what does the cow inside you actually think when you scroll through your day?
An ironically honest text about society, the search for meaning, and digital perseverance—with fur and attitude.

Suddenly, everything goes quiet. No electricity, no network, no news. A personal moment during the blackout in Spain in 2025—and the question of what remains when everything we rely on falls silent.

Three images. One face. A story between breath and moment. In this emotional art series, I reveal what masks could not hide: hope, restlessness, silence. A triptych about feeling in uncertain times—honest, personal, intimate.

Copywriting with feeling: How AI, strategy, and genuine empathy work together. About texts that not only convert but also build trust—between performance and presence.

Decisions, feelings, and love always raise many questions. How we would love to know the answers to these questions in advance! But that is impossible. Our minds often let us down in such moments.

Discover how decisions—conscious or unconscious—shape your life. A humorous look at the everyday and important decisions made by Gen Z and millennials.

Endure silence with style. Stand firm in the momentum. Caught up in the rush of time, trapped by pressure. Happy in a gray landscape, in love with moments, surrounded by romance and lies. Just live.

Midnight on Berlin's U8 subway line. An empty carriage, coronavirus fears, and an escalating encounter between two strangers. A dense short story about isolation and urban tension.

So we remember with a smile in our eyes,
To that place where the sun makes us happy,
Because even if it only exists in our memories,
It showed us what peace really means.

Life is like a cup of coffee that you accidentally spill on your pants. Life is like an improvised cooking show where you cook without recipes and hope that it tastes good in the end. Following your feelings is like a road trip without a navigation device—but there will definitely be adventures.

There is a moon. There are dark clouds. There is a bench. A wooden bench. It has been standing here for over sixty years. It is a beautiful bench. There is no elderly man sitting on the bench. Instead, there is a young man. He has been sitting on this bench for six days. And when one life ends, another comes along from somewhere else.

An unfortunate coincidence. An unintended transmission. Look away. Ignore it. Everything should stay as it is.
But secretly, a new danger has been born. It spreads quickly, invisibly, and affects everyone. The poor, the rich, and those in between. It will show those with great power what power means and how little power they really have.

It has become quiet. There is hardly any street noise anymore; instead, you can hear the birds chirping a symphony. Add to that a blue sky and bright sunshine. At the same time, we wait for the numbers to explode and for the healthcare system, an important organ of society, to collapse. While waiting, we sometimes forget why we are waiting. Why we are working from home and suddenly have time for things we have been putting off all along. Why things are the way they are right now. A few seconds later, we remember the answer: because of the danger.

I know that you know what I cannot know. But I know what you cannot know. And I know that it is always like this and that this knowledge connects us.

I walk down the street that makes Berlin more beautiful in no time. At least, that's what I think. I think. But maybe not. Straight ahead, I follow a line, so to speak—in Linienstraße. How fitting. I think. Somewhere in the middle of Berlin. I walk on, past the place of silence. What do I mean by that? Those who have walked here know what I mean. Those who haven't been here won't know.