Above water – ice swimming with tiger

Like wind leaning on wind: cats go. And when they jump, water piles up. To a monster shaft that falls back into the smooth with smacking, rises again. Until you have the impression, the predator hovers. In such endlessly effortless runs are time and space made of muscle play. And where there is no way, there is no goal.

When I fall in the flake hall of the second snow of this young year and strike my knee for the second time, I can’t go swimming again for ten days. The first hole has not yet stuffed, the knee rests in the injured pants, the cat on her stomach. A comforting book in your hands. “The winter swimmer” von Marion Poschmann see the light of the world these days. On the cover, a pale person drives in green-black-bright hells in a pond, painted in eight hundred years for that Book of the falconry by Emperor Frederick the second. Flowers flower on the hem of the water surface, waiting for robes.

Over water

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Anne Hahn is the author of novels and non -fiction and swims through the waters of the world for »ND«.

The Author The desire is to guide us to the black water of a Berlin lake past yellow Lanzett leaves. Cold has used. There is Thekla who has it from Paula and that of her grandmother. You know that people can bathe outside at any temperature, this does not need any special tools, no protective layer, even no suit from neoprene. Just simple Continue swimming from summer to autumn. In winter you experience the miracle, the body adapts.

“She steps over wet sands on the shore.” I am sucked in, long ago. Slide with Thekla in den Seethat includes, penetrating her extremities, lets your fingers dust, her feet. If you are cold, become insensitive to the skin and its inner burning like a heat ball, she confesses. It was about clearing yourself from everything, the rules, the old and the big city. To engage in nature, heaven and its water. Thekla cannot be disturbed by mothers with strollers, employees in the lunch break, young people with fighting dogs and loud music. Breathe deeply. Stay calm. That is the most important thing. She swims alone, the polar bear and Seals, Club athletesStickers and blessed chickens. She swims along the edge of the ice, at eye level with the birds.

The poem opens. I rase with Thekla and a flaming tiger to the coast. There is the sea, the poet rhymes from the cats. The reed moves in the bay, the seagulls go to escape. Now it is early in the year and Thekla swims along the horizon. Find the tiger on the clothes she left on the shore. She looks at him, the tiger looks back. Put a prison on her knee. Who saves whom? The tiger dreams, Thekla flows away from the beaches in his pocket, packed together into a handful of sand.

Back in Berlin, she discovered blurred schemes on the lake, clouds like cotton candy in the water, then wind. And I? In love with these verses, I start trembling under my cat, as I stood there, “practically naked, know how road salt and awesome, shy, because this area rested so much”.