I grew up with my grandparents in a small bavarian village, living a life in treehouses, hide and seek 12 hours a day in winter and summertime, full of joy and childish freedom. When i was 19 i moved out, on a pursuit to lead a creative life. Sometimes i wonder how time flies. My grandparents grow rapidly older, I’m almost able to feel it physically on my rare visits, but they still maintain that special kind of energy and optimisim, without neclecting their own mortality. 

2 years ago, when i was visting them on a weekend in summer, i found my grandpa working on a sculpture, he used to be a stonemason his entire life. I asked him what kind of work he was doing and he answered in the most obvious way: “It’s my tombstone, what do you think?”

It’s crazy how much i love them.