I'm sitting on the train. The landscape flies past me. The express train is full. Next to me sit two young women with a man-probably their father. They are speaking German. I like the language. It sounds somehow foreign and yet somehow familiar and beautiful. I understand every single word. According to the announcement on the train, the next stop is supposed to be my main destination. London. From there it's on by plane back to Germany and then by cab back to the village of my past. The village where the house of my uncle Sven Bäcker stood. That house which I had inherited.
Vielen Dank für das Lesen!
Wir können Inkspired kostenlos behalten, indem wir unseren Besuchern Werbung anzeigen. Bitte unterstützen Sie uns, indem Sie den AdBlocker auf die Whitelist setzen oder deaktivieren.
Laden Sie danach die Website neu, um Inkspired weiterhin normal zu verwenden.