Sounds depressing? But it's not meant to be. It's more of a philosophical approach that makes me wonder who the hell is supposed to read my writing. I find this self-congratulation, this self-indulgent 'posing' and 'sharing' and 'chatting' and 'liking' sometimes unbearable these days. The value of a text is measured by the number of thumbs underneath it. Nevertheless, I want to manage the balancing act that my writing is read and that I 'like' writing it and, above all, that I write the text according to the rules of the art I am currently studying.

The art of writing to call out to the world and thereby make oneself heard... how does that actually work?
What do I have to do in order not to drown in the sea of texts that are churned out and delivered every day?
Is there a way to mark texts somehow so that the willing reader can find them?

Theodora Petkova is happy to answer these (and other) questions in her lectures, which I had the pleasure of listening to during my studies of Content Strategy at the FH Joanneum in Graz. And - spoiler alert - 

Als Wahlbewohner dieser Stadt nehme ich mir heraus, ab und an mit meinen anderen Augen auf Menschen und Dinge zu schauen. Den Zuag'reisten-Blick einmal auskosten, sozusagen.

Heute Morgen, beim allsamstäglichen Einkauf auf meinem Markt am Lendplatz ist mir ein besonders lieb gewordener Sager aufgefallen. 

Nach einem Rempler

Liebe Mama,

Wenn ich mit Menschen- und mit Engelzungen redete und hätte der Liebe nicht,