10 Comments

It's a powerful piece. It nails the solitude and familiarity of small-town, quiet rhythms.

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Quiet yet familiar, it stays.

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"Waschküchenmelancholie" ... wow, I shall add this to 'verschlimmbessern' as recently acquired vocabulary. I'm sitting in a café with Veronika, and an old friend Rainer (in his 80s), and he remembers the family bed-linen being 'cooked' in giant pots (to 100degC) in communal facilities in the town. Making new words by joining shorter words is what the German language offers extra to the poet - you made good use of it. :)

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Thank you, Joshua! Warm greetings to Rainer.

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while Josh wasn't listening, Rainer also told me about what he did with the girls in the neighbourhood, after the Waschküche had served its weekly duties. Amazing what one word can do to recall a memory long since buried... Judging from the old man's mischievous expression and twinkle in the eyes, he remembers a brighter side of the gloomy place. 🤭

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Rainer experienced the fullness of Waschküchenmelancholie ; )

Veronika, thank you very much for listening to Rainer,

it helped (me) a lot

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Listen to the city's rhythm—it's a low, steady, endless hum.

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The hum carries the city’s breath.

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It's a moody track that sounds like it's on repeat - soft, heavy, and quietly relentless. It has a lo-fi melancholy vibe. The rhythm just lingers, like a song that's on the tip of your tongue but you can't quite place it.

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A loop that refuses to settle.

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