World So Wide
This world is so wide that, even if you flitted around and around it, you would never reach the end of it. This blog is a collage of more or less literary and humorous, outlandish or sometimes even serious glimpses at this great wide world.
Sunday, November 8, 2026
Looking Through Glass
Wednesday, November 4, 2026
Friday, October 30, 2026
Día de un Muerto
...
Between Zacatecas and Torreón, the train came to a stop in the middle of nowhere for hours. Rumors of an accident were circulating. Reportedly, a man had been killed when trying to jump onto the train. I walked five cars down to the spot where a crowd had gathered. I couldn’t see what had piqued their curiosity, but a few police officers in the center of the crowd were making emphatic gestures. There were also three dark-skinned figures standing there – two small and slender, one stooped and veiled.
“Kneel, señor, you must kneel!,” the veiled woman said.
“Why is she saying that, André?,” said Nicole, standing next to me.
“I don’t know. I’m just thinking: am I evil, or is she?”
“Why turn this into a question of good and evil? Let’s just assume that you’re perfectly ordinary, and she’s a bit demonic.”
“If you say so, my beauty.”
– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2026)
Posted for Friday Writings #251: Halloween and Día de Muertos. This is actually an excerpt from a story originally written in the 1980s and published in German translation in 2005. I remembered it when I read today’s writing prompt because it plays in Mexico and includes several seemingly random encounters with the veiled lady that culminate in the fatal accident described in this ending part of the story.
Wednesday, October 28, 2026
Stuttgart Beer Festival / Wordless Wednesday
Tuesday, October 27, 2026
Thursday, October 22, 2026
I explained to you exactly
why I love you.
A mushroom was growing out of your nose.
Because of the mushroom, you couldn't speak.
But you explained to me nonetheless that I hadn’t understood a thing.
Which I realized!
Where your eyes must have been, behind the ever-growing mushroom, sprigs of parsley were sprouting.
Your mouth dropped like a potato, still mouthing something as it was falling down.
Startled, I stepped back before your mushroom head could touch me or the parsley could tickle me.
– Leonard Blumfeld (© 2026)
Posted in response to Friday Writings #250: Memories and Dreams, this is actually the translation of a surreal dream I’d originally written down in German. The painting above by Giuseppe Arcimboldo (1526-1593) would seem a good match for this vegetable-centric dream.
Love, one-sided
Once again nothing but the prosaic truth turned into poetry. This one-sided love story has been going on for four days now. Ever since this specimen flew in through an open door and simply refuses to leave.








