On a sunny afternoon in my first year of university I was sitting with a few fellow students whom I now call friends in our canteen. I was probably quite full, having eaten loads of noodles (for 2 € can you imagine?) and most importantly I was looking outside.
Not really remarkable, you might think, but in fact if I hadn’t looked outside the huge window front that day (and so many days after), you wouldn’t be here. And me neither. On this site, I mean, not this world. Don’t be ridiculous. For every time I looked out that specific window by our favourite table (which was large enough to fit all of us, while being very close to the exit which is always a good thing), my eyes where ultimately drawn to a concrete pillar on which the following words were written (with quite a childish hand):
Wait for me at Niemandswasser
Reading this, over and over again, for weeks and months, I never knew what was meant. What was Niemandswasser? Where was Niemandswasser? Wait for whom? However, I imagined it a wild and magical spot, quite secret but for those who went looking, for those who knew someone was waiting for them, there in the wilderness. I guess I imagined myself waiting at Niemandswasser. Whatever was meant, it resonated quite nicely with how I felt. Especially since none of my fellow students seemed to notice the scrawling on the concrete.
So here we are. At Niemandswasser. It took me years to finally dig out my smartphone and type in the few words to find out it was actually a song with quite wild lyrics if you ask me but it never lost its appeal, its magic for me.
So thank you Current 93 I guess, for creating a memory, and Robert Aickman for a secret place, known to only those who went looking, and those already waiting there.