It rained, all day, every day. The rain fell continuously as though it intended to wash away everything in the world.
The living and the dead were being equally washed by the rain.
The man was standing in front of the grave for about half an hour, being constantly hit by the rain.
The mist created by the rain washed out all the colors and the constant thud of drops dampened all sounds.
Everything seemed to sink into the rain.
It was a cemetery. A place for the decaying. A place of eternal peace. All human endeavors eventually return to silence.
A man had come from far away, from Berlin. He had to fly, boarding planes, several times, and once the taxis were gone, he continued walking, arriving at the Nuremberg countryside.
What he was looking for was right before his eyes.
At a corner where the crosses and tombstones lined up neatly.
He knelt and stared at a rugged gravestone that didn’t really resemble her in life. It was still brand new. The letters were clearly engraved.
Emma Wieland.
Schöpferin von Legenden, ruhet nun hier eigenst als Legende.
A Creator of Legends, now rests here, a Legend herself.
The man had neither an umbrella nor a raincoat.
He was kneeling in the rain. Cold mud got all over his pants. The coldness and dampness permeated his body through his clothing.
The cemetery was still calm.
There was only the sound of the rain on the grass.
“It’s not over yet…” he muttered.
“I won’t let it be over…”
He turned back and left the cemetery.
In the rain, the man walked with a determined step.
As he moved away from the grave, the man began to melt into the landscape and fade away, eventually sinking completely into the rain.
It rained, all day, every day. The rain fell continuously as though it intended to wash away everything in the world.
The living and the dead were being equally washed by the rain.
The man was standing in front of the grave for about half an hour, being constantly hit by the rain.
The mist created by the rain washed out all the colors and the constant thud of drops dampened all sounds.
Everything seemed to sink into the rain.
It was a cemetery. A place for the decaying. A place of eternal peace. All human endeavors eventually return to silence.
A man had come from far away, from Berlin. He had to fly, boarding planes, several times, and once the taxis were gone, he continued walking, arriving at the Nuremberg countryside.
What he was looking for was right before his eyes.
At a corner where the crosses and tombstones lined up neatly.
He knelt and stared at a rugged gravestone that didn’t really resemble her in life. It was still brand new. The letters were clearly engraved.
Emma Wieland.
Schöpferin von Legenden, ruhet nun hier eigenst als Legende.
A Creator of Legends, now rests here, a Legend herself.
The man had neither an umbrella nor a raincoat.
He was kneeling in the rain. Cold mud got all over his pants. The coldness and dampness permeated his body through his clothing.
The cemetery was still calm.
There was only the sound of the rain on the grass.
“It’s not over yet…” he muttered.
“I won’t let it be over…”
He turned back and left the cemetery.
In the rain, the man walked with a determined step.
As he moved away from the grave, the man began to melt into the landscape and fade away, eventually sinking completely into the rain.
