With the town musicians in the monastery

At the moment, I am living as Brother Michael, living the life of a monk. Besides temporary chastity, only Mother Nature allows me to be close to her. Since Annina left on the bus to see the world, I have been living in my simple cell, a mobile home, surrounded by a great amount of serenity. I am awakened in the early morning by three donkeys, who have made the rooster unemployed. Half-asleep, I stumble over two peacocks who have fallen in love with my doormat. After the trampled feathered creatures grumpily fly onto the roof of the tractor, I dedicate myself to my morning meditation before the rest of the town musicians pay me their respects. There is the half-blind and deaf dog, who despite her handicaps, always finds her way to my home and demands to be petted with her puppy eyes. As soon as the dog is gone, the greedy cat sneaks up, completing the morning procession. The blackbird sings on the spruce tree, deer gallop over the potato fields, cows chew their cud in the barn, and surrounded by all these creatures, I feel like Saint Francis in person. Following the Benedictine credo, after praying comes working, as is well known. In deep contemplation, I build dry stone walls with my unchaste brothers before retreating back to my self-chosen monastery. Occasionally, my friend joins me by the campfire, and following the motto "in wine lies truth," we toast to the wisdom of life in the late hours. Back in my cell, the greedy cat has already devoured my Cervelat sausage, and I content myself with a crust of bread. My body is nourished and tired - what remains is my soul, which is nourished with a wise book before I drift off to sleep. I could very well get used to this life, marked by silence, physical labor, and seasoned with intellectual tidbits.

While the donkeys rattle in the dark and the deer leisurely eat the farmer's crops, I sleep as sweetly as Brother Klaus once did on his stony pillow. Amen.