Vincent spent a year and a half in a tight suitcase. If your son is a stuffed animal, you can do that. For me, looking at him was painful because Vincent was a gift from a woman I loved dearly. The magic of our bond breathed life into it. He became a real baby sloth. I have many fond memories of Vincent. He guarded the fruit basket and mistook kiwis for his eggs. He stuck his round head out of my backpack on hikes. He sat with us watching TV and always had a more or less clever comment ready. He slept in bed with us and lost filling quite quickly from being cuddled so much. Vincent van Sloth, a real sloth with personality. I miss the passion in my life, somehow all the magic has gone. I always had this vibe, the trust in the universe, I could feel the beauty of the world in my body and mind. And I always wanted to convey this feeling to others, or at least share some of it. I'm used to being alone. That's not it. I feel exhausted from the experiences of the past two years. All this insane German bureaucracy on the way to my professional goal. Half a year ago I temporarily stopped my Instagram activities because I needed my energy. I'm feeling better now because I was able to win an important stage. But there is a lot of work to be done in the next few months. The magic will come back on its own one day, and maybe my posts will get some of that as well. I brought Vincent out again because my grudges have faded and suffering has dissolved into heartwarming memories. And now I want him back with me, my little Vincent.