Wie aufregend: eine große weiße Leinwand (ich hätte spätestens jetzt mein „Horror Vacui“), ein wunderschönes Gedicht (mein Liebstes) und dann greift die Kalligraphin und Künstlerin Jeannine Patz zum Pinsel und legt los. 
Buchstabe für Buchstabe, bis sich die Strophen von „The Road not Taken“ (1920) des amerikanischen Dichters Robert Frost (1874 – 1963) über die ganze Fläche ausgebreitet haben. Es ist der Beginn eines „work in progress‘, dass sich bis Ende Mai vollendet oder nie vollendet, da es immer noch ein Erinnerungsschnipsel gibt an einen Weg, den wir nicht gegangen sind.
Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;
Then took the other, as just as fair
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,
And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.
I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence:
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I —
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.
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