Magical places of our past are often an important link to our own stormy life story. Everybody relates different experiences and moments, but there is usually a certain glorification and elusiveness that connects them.
These places are often no longer there or have changed in a way that the actual aura has been completely lost. This is probably where the magic lies, because reality has been transfigured into myth, and the actual experiences have often given way to one's own imagination. Everyone builds his own fiction, which can influence our lives in different ways.
The memories of these places touch us emotionally very deeply, the thought of our own past reminds us again of the finiteness of life and of our own vulnerability. It often warms my heart but I also feel something like a farewell. Melancholy can warm you at the same time but also make you shiver.
If you are always on the move, you may never reach your destination. So it is essential to position yourself correctly again:
"Where do I come from?"
is a question that should not be suppressed when trying to answer the other important question.
"Where am I actually going?"
When I stay in my home town I always, I am always glad I can visit several magical places of my former life. Among others, the place where my father's sister lived with her family.
This building used to be a Lutheran recreation home, but it could not withstand the waves of the storm of reunification. In former times, my aunt and uncle were the managers of this -for me gigantic- object, which I tried to explore and investigate during my visits. The magic came from the age and the size and grandeur of this house, but many secrets probably remained undiscovered for me.
Then after the fall of communism, the gates of this house quickly closed, and attempts to revive it failed a few times.
And there it stands now, from the outside still proud and in all its dignity, but inside empty and gutted. A shell of itself, which shows various signs of injury. Open and broken windows and even nature is slowly trying to take possession of this building.
At first glance, there are no witnesses to the many moments of joy and life that have taken place here. Especially inside, it seems as if all traces that would point to the lively and inspiring past of this building have been tried to be erased.
However, my memories of many carefree hours, days and nights spent here with my family have remained and can never be taken away.
My visits to my homeland bring me back here every time, and my thoughts often go on a little journey. A journey, which always brings me back to the present, but whose route is always different. In my head many different memories are stored, which let this journey become magical and revive different stations from my youth and childhood.
I feel deep gratitude but also a pain that has probably accompanied me for a whole part of my life and will probably never leave me.
On the day of my visit in some February it was sunny and also very cold. But the magic of this place sparked and gave me some warming moments.
