If Prince were a store –
it would have closed it’s doors yesterday.
Forever.
No rumours, no information in advance.
No ‚to let‘ sign at the door, no ‚back in five minutes‘ note.
No excuse.
No chance to find it somewhere else one day.
The concept is gone, disappeared.
Never dead.

The Prince store (to me) was located
in a foggy neighborhood
of a large, dirty city.
Besides the high street,
in a purple niche.
A secret hidden space everybody knew
but which ment a different universe
to every single one.
It wore different facades almost everytime I came for a visit.
Even different names.
While I basically remained the same,
the store triggered me to change.
Whenever I entered the hidden court,
heading the purple niche,
I was respectfully curious what to find.
Open to let it work with me.

Over thirty years, since I entered the gap,
the store was always open, 24/7.
Several times I had not been there for a while
but the Prince store was still there.
Both rememberable and brandnew.
It inspired me in a new way everytime I got in touch again.
No matter if I entered the store in a lousy or happy mood –
the atmosphere always lifted me up to the next level.
Flashing, surprising, cheering,
questioning, touching, stroking, punching,
healing me
with it’s virtuosity and creativity.
I collected everything in my heart.
Thank u Prince.

(Photo: Wiki Commons)