My phone tells stories: Shoes get her number, sneakers take her home.

It’s a shame I stopped writing the kind of diary entries that tell absolutely non-relevant and daily stories. These entries seem to be somewhat stuck in my early teens where everything I thought and did was utterly important. Well, of course it wasn’t, while nowadays there is less time to jot stuff down and at the same time, all the more opportunity to gain this potential stuff that would deserve to be kept somewhere. I read a strikingly interesting article of one of Germany’s top modern philosophers Richard David Precht which partly covers this issue in the Berliner Zeitung this morning. (High five for the German speakers amongst us!) The most refreshing and irritating topics he covered was that since our age is constantly expanding all kinds of networks while exchanging knowledge and people frequently, there will soon be no need for in-depth analysis of past events anymore – people just move on. One of the less scary things is that he sees children as carriers of biographical knowledge…

However, what I actually wanted to talk about today was the amount of pictures I collect on my phone. They are of a miserable quality and yet I love them to bits. Those bad pictures tell the little insignificant stories that I would forget far too easily if I wouldn’t quickly pull my phone out (and terribly annoy my friends).

xxx

The result can be found on a never-ending Instagram feed – I know that it’s been too long since I’ve shared the last extract – so that’s why the first collage pictures my last days in London … from June: A ballet at the Royal Opera House, a stroll through Camden Passage with a visit to the legendary Breakfast Club, an afternoon at the National Gallery, colourful fruits from Borough Market and a last evening with one of my closest friends and a giant cheese pizza.

It goes on with parts of my amazing travels through Paris, Brussels and Antwerp: A scene from the Métro, reading sessions both under Mister Eiffel Tower and above the Seine, a rainy Grote Markt, delicious chocolate (and by delicious I mean the best I ever had), the sea and my press card for the NATO Youth Summit in Brussels. Oh how proud I was!

The last bit showcases the past weeks in Berlin which is the place where I will stay until the end of September. Prenzlauer Berg, Berlin Fashion Week, the Sanssouci fortress in Potsdam whose name I can’t pronounce, Mauerpark and some really cool cafés: Wohnzimmer and Mein Haus am See. There will be a little Berlin café guide following soon, stay tuned! And please don’t forget to pin down your Instagram names and add me on @caroschmitt. x

One response to My phone tells stories: Shoes get her number, sneakers take her home.

  1. I also enjoy revisiting my early teen journal entries where I chronicled my oh-so-important daily activities and sufferings (which usually had something to do with Leonardo Decaprio or science homework). Now, like you said above, I tend to just look back over my digital footprint to revisit my recent past. The unfortunate thing about the displacement of the personal journal is that, while my Facebook timeline and blog posts are a valid record of my life, they are completely public ones. My journals in contrast were always much more raw and honest. Interesting to think about that and the article you mentioned in respect to our collective record-keeping. Anyway, great photos! 😉

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