but you left a trace in my heart

Marburg.
Packing is sad. Wherever you are going. Packing is sad.
It forces you to think what to take and what to leave.
To leave behind, to give to people, to throw it in the rubbish bin.
One can take it positively, that they get rid of a lot of shit they have been accumulating through the years.
I find it hard to sort out. This might be useful sometime, and this, and this. Oh no, I can't get rid of this one. By no means.
Uh.
In the last drawer in my office I had, besides dry danish bread and two drops of virgin olive oil, all the Lingulelen songs. My eye fell on one line of our greatest hit "Kill all phoneticians":
"A trace can't keep want and to apart,
but you left a trace in my heart"
You left a trace in my heart Marburg.
And especially Lingulelen.
But I cannot hold back to sweet memories if they are hurting now.
Let's just pack them in and when I can sort them out again in London, I can write another melancholic post about how I am not going to re-live those glorious moments again.

Marburg, February 2016