Oddly enough, that is, when a sign indicating a “Dream Inn” in Santa Cruz, California, where it all begins in this book on new year’s morning. If colorful candy papers to an empty beach to enigmatic characters, and if a Stranger of the name of Ernest is wearing, again and again in unexpected places occurs, a phenomenon so confusing how reassuring messages.

Rose-Maria Gropp

editor in the features section, responsible for the “art market”.

F. A. Z.

these Are the dreams, the nocturnal and daydreams, the Patti Smith in a year of the monkey according to the Chinese horoscope? Or is it the reality, which is accompanied in her seventieth year of life of all these fantasies? It is the year 2016, the most recent book, “Year of the Monkey”, is published in the previous year in the United States and is now available in German appeared. After “Just Kids” in 2010, the time of their early friendship was with the photographer Robert Mapplethorpe, and the “M Train” by 2015, which was dedicated mainly to the life with her husband, the musician Fred “Sonic” Smith, is “In the year of the monkey”, a third memory book. It’s just this, however, includes a year, and it is even less of a story in the real sense as the predecessor.

a mirror of their inner experiences

If the dreams are different and yet the same life, then Patti Smith is once more on the right side and in her Element. And the followers of the American musician, poet, photographer and performer, was born in 1946 in Chicago, you will again follow in their excursions the special kind in a Hyper-reality, as a mirror of your inner experiences. You will find, as it were, the ground of liability in a Road trip in several stages; in Visit at the bedside of the moribund music producers and poets Sandy Pearlman; in the house of the to AS a suffering actor-writer Sam Shepard; and, not least, in its sharp reaction to the election of Donald Trump to the American President.

And she thinks, very seriously, to the own aging, makes Marcus Aurelius in “meditations” to the witnesses, “the passage of time, the open eye to perceive. Ten thousand years or ten thousand days, nothing can stop the time or to the fact shaking, that I would be in the year of the monkey the seventy. Seventy. Just a number, but one that shows how the course of Sand divided trickles down through the egg timer, and it even has the darn Egg. While the grains trickle, I catch myself doing that I miss the dead stronger than before.“