Nadja Küchenmeister - Der große Wagen | Lyrik Lesung

In the organizer's words:

It begins in Berlin, Cologne or Lisbon. It begins in spring, with a sky that has no clouds. Life returns, and with it the memories of children working in the cellar, of dew on spring flowers and daisies and of ghosts holding monologues in the shower. Someone is walking through the winding streets of a city, the light from Wuhletal station is reflected on the Miradouro da Graça. So why pause when the wind lifts you up like a sheet of paper?

Everything happens at the same time: as you grow older, carpet pole by carpet pole, the bells of the Mater Dolorosa ring into the gap left by the rain. So you have to hang yourself in the loop so that the curve doesn't finish you off. But the dead never rest - it's easier to meet them with freshly clipped fingernails. How much coffee should you drink before you let the radiators get cold? asks Nadja Küchenmeister in her long poem Der Große Wagen. The past constantly seeps into the present like the water of the Tagus into the Atlantic, and only one thing can be said with certainty: yellow is becoming more important.

Price information:

We have a small contingent of free tickets, just contact us or send us an e-mail.