I left without a return ticket... The new poems by Bela Chekurishvili draw from the radicality of departure - the step from the confines of the familiar into the uncertain expanse that the poet from Georgia undertook with her move to Germany. These verses uncompromisingly and directly assess the gains and losses of a life in two worlds, moving barefoot on slippery ice, grass, and asphalt, in the memory spaces that flash up in photographs. The faded Soviet childhood, the poverty and splendor of the Tbilisi turning years, destructive loves, the aging of parents - all of this is evoked in captivating rhythms and transformed into song. Right up to the invocation of pagan customs, which ultimately leads back to the poem: "after all, this is also an old ritual, / to bond syllable with syllable, / to play with words until they crackle.".