There is a stillness of autumn, up into the colors. (Hugo von Hoffmannsthal) The sunrays are still warm, while the calendar is already turned to the next page and announces a farewell in seemingly meaningless seconds. The leaves on the trees are deep red and
Sunday morning is usually the time to take everything a bit slower. Get up later. Music for breakfast. Read the newspaper. The real one. Made of paper.
"To the insatiable in each enjoyment, even happiness becomes an overflow." (Ludwig Bechstein) Slowly the heat of the summer fades away and the concrete of the big city begins to catch a breath. While the days are still warm and pleasant to enjoy, the hot
"When we have discovered the beauty of simplicity, when we see that there is a comprehensive, absolutely beguiling order which we all follow and which we can understand, everything suddenly appears in another light. We then only see the complication as unachieved simplicity, as the