The last moment of offline recording seems years ago already... for days I was wondering why i stopped writing all of a sudden when the summer came. Clearly I was fortunate to be engaged in a magic performative project with amazing artists and dancers, so I got 24/7 involved in creating and digesting and actually being ON-line as much as possible. Until the autumn kicked in I was busy being myself, a dancer and performer, a director and visual artist, having the great opportunity to be able to keep our funding from the Senat and, despite all the crazy measurements to keep everyone healthy and safe, fighting weird bureaucracy, stressed out theater managers and freaked out audiences, we did a total of 9 performances in two different neighborhoods in Berlin, crossing the east-west border with our vibrational experimentation. In every moment i continued to search for the line between the butoh and the contemporary in me and for the collective solidarity in my artistic approach. Being an overachiever due to trauma background (which was a big part of the deeper research for this project) I felt I was failing myself and others at all times, I fought for more and more sense, for figuring out what it means and why we dance, how we can influence our society and create valuable connections to audiences through our work. At the and of it, for a second, when everybody went back to their own lives, and all which remained were hundreds of photos, tones of GB of unseen footage and 10 chosen postcards, I drowned in regret and a sense of complete failure, for not finding any remain or sustainable proof of why my work has any meaning to others. And so, as the second lockdown hit (once again as a temporary solution, which clearly in my psychic brain meant it will take at leas few months) i closed myself in, and felt my legs paralyzing again, my body refusing to dance, my mind being dry and cold without any spark of a creative project or cultural exchange (which normally i produce literally 1000/second at least). for days I sit isolated in my own 4 walls dwelling of nostalgia at the times I was initiating improvisations on the streets with other dancers, planing festivals and writing grant application after grant application. I train myself in postie thinking and i practice meditation and all sorts to keep myself on a high vibration, i go in nature to ground myslef and i tell myself daily i have to trust it will all sort itself out. But every day i wake up in fear with a sense of being utterly lost, desperately asking around 'why do I dance'... why do i not work as doctor or supermarket salesperson or in delivery, public transport etc. why do i waste my life living on the edge of survival, always depending on someone or something. and mainly i ask why i cant dance when no one is watching, why i cant feel anything when i am not on stage... how can i practice my art without theaters and studios, and even if I had them, suddenly this crisis really makes me doubt if my existence has any meaning at all...clearly as a dancer/artist not only am I not #systemrelevant but it seems i also seize to exist in a world filled by consumerism of food and products, a world only focused on constructing and bying. And normally i would be the one instigating a little revolution, acts of awareness brought to the people who see us the least, but for some reason this second lockdown seems quiet and brings a sense of desolation with it, like a forced hibernation of a whole Nation, reinforcing the feeling of fear and pointlessness of existence. I try to look beyond this matrix and of course I know it is all a weird tick to manipulate my brain into feeling worthless, and yet I feel my body is numb, my arms and legs are stiff, my heart cries and the only thing that still moves a little every day is my desire to sing. Slowly I start to think I am not alone, as suddenly i notice the wave of online streams has become still and the living room dancers and balcony supporters no longer make it into any stream. I feel potential and hope in the connections arising on zoom and the dialogue worldwide opening up, if only I could get myself up like last time and go on the streets to dance... not yet. i still hide, and sleep, i archive my work and post nostalgic photos from past shows, i engage in backstage communication and planing of future ideas, while constantly fretting on what is it for what i do... I really don't know anymore. Dear system you really got me to that point of total despair...so I choose to sleep it out and wake up in the spring with a new sense for life and art.