This blog will shut down and permanently move to my website end of January 2024!
I hope you’ll keep following me there. Best wishes to everyone!
Blog permanently moving to website end of Jan 2024!
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Trans and gender non-conforming individuals at the workplace
Delighted to share a research that I undertook with colleagues at @BostonConsultingGroup has been published in the Sep-Oct Issue of Harvard Business Review (‘HBR’)!
Earlier this year, our report on the experience of trans and gender non-conforming individuals (‘TGNC’) at the workplace spanning 8 countries was published online on HBR. The research uncovered some rather concerning insights for TGNC community and laid concrete steps companies can take to correct the situation. I hope through its extract published in the print version, our message reaches an even wider audience and creates a broader positive impact for the TGNC community.
I encourage you to read the full report on the HBR website and welcome thoughts.
Huge thanks to the whole team: Pierre Dupreelle, Kushal Khandhar, Elliot Vaughn, Ashley Dartnell, Michael Schachtner, Nadine Yousif, Annika Zawadzki, Matt Krentz, Nicolas Llinas-Carrizosa, Nolan Rynecki, Jen Cox, Kate Cheney Myrrh, Mark Voorhees, and Paul Michelman.
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A Long and Painful Journey of Growth and Discovery
I’ve always had to battle challenges and adversity far larger than being transgender.
In this blog post, let’s focus on the transgender part of my story…
I was born in 1971 and grew up in a time, a conservative geographic region, and surrounded by people who never asked me why I was so unhappy and hid away in my room for days on end. When I did make attempts to try and tell them, they didn’t listen. This began when I was 3 years old…
By the time I was 5 years old, I stopped trying to tell people that I was actually a boy inside the female body they perceived. Instead, I began to wonder if there was something wrong with me. Maybe I didn’t quite belong in this world? Maybe I was just broken?
When finally, at the age of 20, I figured out that I was transgender, it was the beginning of an odyssey. This was now over 30 years ago. And the odyssey is still ongoing.
I used to say “I was born in the wrong body” to explain my situation as simply as possible to people. But, I don’t want to say “in the wrong body” anymore, because I have realized this is basically negative self-talk. There is nothing wrong with me or my body. I am not broken. My soul and my biological body were simply mismatched. Why, we’ll never know.
Well, I do have a theory (with a slight twinkle in my eye):
Since I was a kid, I like to imagine a factory high up in the heavens, where exhausted workers toil around the clock at long assembly lines. Their task is to stick souls into matching bodies before those little bodies are then put into wombs. Obviously, every now and then an assembly line worker does not pay attention. As happened in my case when he, she, or they stuck my male soul into a female body… a second of complacency which has cost me dearly my entire life.
For it has taken truly until now for me to realize that I do belong in this world. And that I have as much right as everyone else to take up space, be heard, be seen.
For the longest time, I felt as if I had to apologize for being who I am. I was terrified whenever I needed to come out at work, or in private.
It was during those days as well, that I got rejected in job interviews simply for being transgender.
And then, one time, in the year 2000, the head of human resources of a prestigious company told me after I mentioned that I am transgender, “That’s not a problem at all, Mr. Klenk. You are a very good fit. We’d like to hire you. Just don’t tell anyone else in the company that you are transgender.”
And you know, what? I actually said, “Yes, sure, I understand.”
Because I was so grateful that someone wanted to hire me.
Today, 23 years later, I am fully aware just how discriminating, and disrespectful the HR representative’s request was. And that I should have gotten up that very moment and said “NO”.
Yet, only recently, after years of work with my psychologist did it finally dawn on me that I have prioritized the needs of others my entire life.
How often was I hidden away and still am. To this day, my adoptive father thinks it’s better to not mention to anyone in his village that I am transgender. He can’t even bring himself to use the word transgender. Instead, he refers to it as “your thing.”
My adoptive mother still struggles with finding the right pronouns, 32 years after I came out to her and transitioned. She is concentrating like mad when she speaks to me but often falls back into the female form. And, to this day, she is lying to everyone she knows and only speaks to them about her daughter. When I visit and people she knows walk towards us, she grabs my arm and literally runs with me in the other direction. Because she is at a loss as to how to explain who the young man at her side is. So, to protect my mental health, since a couple years ago, I stopped visiting her.
My ex-wife and her siblings insisted throughout our entire marriage that it will be better not to mention to their parents that their son-in-law is transgender. Since it would make their parents uncomfortable and would possibly break their hearts.
What about my heart?
But you know what? I went along with all of it. Always put myself second. Always understood. And always aimed to do my best to prevent others from ever feeling uncomfortable around me and my reality. I became an amazing diplomat, regulating the feelings of others long before they even felt them.
Even after I wrote a book about my life and basically outed myself with utmost authenticity and truthfulness to the entire world, I still had abundant understanding for everyone else and did my best to never inconvenience anyone.
And I wasn’t even aware I did this to myself.
In the process, I realize now, I undermined my sense of self-worth and my self-confidence. I hurt myself. Didn’t have my own back. De-stabilized the ground I walked on. The tremors and earthquakes became stronger with every single year, until I fell more often than I stood.
I realize now, I committed the ultimate betrayal. Did the worst we can do to ourselves. Because if we don’t have our own backs 100%, if we don’t love ourselves exactly as who and how we are, we literally have nothing.
It is the loneliest we can possibly ever be. No matter how many loyal and supportive friends we have. No matter how many people we inspire.
My odyssey has thus far been chock-full of challenges and adversity. Thankfully, I never took any of these hurdles as being the end of the line. But rather as opportunities for growth and learning. So, grow I did and do. Painfully and slowly. I always will.
Nowadays, as I am in the process of – for the first time in my life – building a healthy base layer of self-confidence and self-esteem. I am beginning to truly stand up tall.
And while I have already been an active supporter and public speaker for the transgender, non-conforming, and non-binary community since as far back as 2016, it is only now that I feel true belonging – to myself, as well as to the world around me. I am allowing myself space. I am finding my place. And as I love myself more and belong more, my voice grows stronger.
Most importantly, I know – as firmly and clearly as anyone ever can – that I will never let myself be hidden away or silenced again.
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The Hazards of Traveling
Traveling. That magical word. Those moments, surreal almost in their beauty and intensity once we return home and try to hold on to them in our thoughts. And then, of course, while on the road, there is this feeling of being intensely alive. I had missed especially this vividness when finally, after 2 years of not traveling long distances during the pandemic, I was able to set out again and explore. And, as every time when I set out, I was scared.
Over the years, I’ve lived and worked on several continents. In 11 countries. These were, in chronological order: Germany, USA, Switzerland, Maldives, Belgium, Macau, Canada, Hong Kong, Malta, the Caribbean, and France.
Each one of these home bases I settled into, I used as a hub from which I travelled extensively. I love exploring.
Yet, every single time I set off to go somewhere new, to venture into the unknown, I was afraid. Even terrified at times.
It was the realization that I was about to go out of my comfort zone, to stretch my limits. A leap of faith, both scary and invigorating.
It was also knowing that I was leaving my safe zone – Zurich, Switzerland – where I know from experience, I won’t be attacked as a transgender man.
Each time, leaving this safe haven added a whole other layer of anxiety for me. The fear of not being accepted… or worse of being in mortal danger as a trans individual. I knew, I’d be far more vulnerable at any new destination, due to my lack of local knowledge. Just think of emergencies, doctor’s visits, registrations at public offices, etc.
Now, being 52 years old, I’ve seen a large portion of our planet. I am by all means a seasoned traveler. But one thing hasn’t changed: I am still often anxious. Especially as I head out. That initial push of, “Yeah it’s scary as hell, but do it anyways. It’ll be worth it, and you’ll be fine.”
Like two months ago, when I took several planes to get from Switzerland to New Zealand. During my long stopover in Doha, I was acutely aware of their state-of-the-art full body scanners and wondered how much they really show or don’t show? Was it obvious to the security personnel that there is something missing between my legs?
As I then walked through the lush, green forest inside the recently built Doha terminal, I was in awe. But, at the same time, I felt incredibly uncomfortable. Because I knew I was in one of those places on Earth where I am not allowed to exist. Where I am considered an abomination. Would they kill me if they met me in a dark alley rather than in a busy airport terminal?
When the airplane took off towards Adelaide a few hours later, I was as relieved as a drowning man coming up to the surface for a breath of much needed air.
So, you see, wherever I go, it is hard for me to completely relax. And sometimes, depending on where I am, I can’t relax at all.
I transitioned in 1996, when I was 25. But even now, 27 years later, I still sometimes feel like a criminal on the run who could be detected at any moment. Someone not welcome, under the radar, living a life of false safety which can shatter at any time.
Thus, my nervous system is always on high alert.
When you meet me on the street, however, you’ll never know I’m transgender. I am very much the man I am – inside and also on the outside. I “pass” very well as they say.
On that note: I detest the use of the words “passing” and “presenting” in relation to how a transgender person is perceived by others. It’s actually outright disrespectful and invalidating. “Passing” and “presenting” make us sound as if we are pretending to be who we are rather than actually being exactly the person we say we are, no matter how that may look to others.
People I only meet briefly on the street or whilst running an errand will never know they’ve just met a transgender man.
And it is precisely those quick everyday encounters which make me wonder: Would they still appreciate me and treasure me if they knew I am transgender? Would I still be safe around them?
Far more acute, when I am traveling or working abroad, I often wonder things like: Will the doctors in the foreign hospital still treat me well when they find out my body isn’t quite like any other male body? If I get searched by police in a dark alley, will I come out of there alive? If I’m outed in a bar in the middle of nowhere, will I be attacked? Will the woman I’ve flirted with run away in disgust when she sees me the first time without my clothes?
Especially in the USA, the Middle East, and South America, hundreds of transgender individuals get killed every year on the street simply for being who they are. So, my worries are not unfounded. And much still needs to be done for this, our beautiful planet, to truly be an inclusive world.
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On Stage with Kurt Aeschbacher at Haebse in Basel
For a second time, I had the pleasure to be invited as a guest to Kurt Aeschbacher’s talk show. This time not on television but life on stage at the Kulturhaus Haebse in Basel. It’s been – once again – a special honor and precious life experience, whilst at the same time also an opportunity to raise awareness for the transgender community and do something good.
After I published my book ‘Paralian – not just transgender’ in May 2016, I was invited to do many radio and magazine interviews. At the time, I wondered what I would do if I’d ever get approached to be a guest on a talk show.
Because, inevitably, when I watch most talk shows, they feel over the top to me, pretentious, inauthentic, disrespectful, exploitational, and wrong on so many levels.
Except Aeschbacher. He is a Swiss TV legend and hosted his own talk show, unpretentiously called ‘Aeschbacher’ for 30 years on Swiss television. I’ve always loved his shows and the way Kurt Aeschbacher dealt with his guests.
There was a lightness of being and a deep understanding. All at the same time.
There was also true curiosity, compassion, and respect. Kurt always invited four people and focused on each of them for 15 minutes in his 1-hour-long show. He led the interviews with a beautiful, subtle sense of humor, and an enormously big heart.
So, I really dreamt of one day being invited to ‘Aeschbacher.’
And then, all of a sudden, in January 2018, I received a letter from the ‘Aeschbacher’ production team, asking me if I wanted to be a guest in the show.
It was lovely. And the positive impression I had gained of Kurt Aeschbacher from a distance over the years was confirmed. He welcomed us, his four guests of the evening, with open arms at the TV studio. He told us, he didn’t want to discuss the questions with us in detail beforehand so as not to take away the authenticity. But he also said that, should we feel uncomfortable at any time, we could always choose to just not answer a question.
After the show, he approached each of us and asked us if it had been ok, and if we had felt comfortable. And all of us had felt very comfortable indeed.
Fast forward five years from spring of 2018 to now – spring of 2023.
We got back in touch this year and I was delighted to hear that Kurt Aeschbacher had decided to continue his talk show concept live on stage in a theatre in Basel after his TV show had been shut down after its successful 30-year run.
So, it was a no-brainer to say ‘yes’ when Kurt asked me if I wanted to be his guest again. This time for his matinee show ‘Sonntagsgaeste’ (Sunday Guests), which he performs together with artistic director and musician Phil Dankner, who is just as much of a good soul as Kurt.
Thus, last Sunday, on the 16th of April 2023, I found myself on stage again, live, and as always very nervous in sharing a story as personal and intimate as mine. It always feels equivalent to leaning far out of the window on the top floor of a 30-story building.
The overall concept of the talk show was still the same. Yet, far more comfortable somehow, in a stage setting which resembled a cozy living room.
The conversations between Kurt and his guests were still inspirational, delightful, entertaining, as well as educational.
As I watched the conversations with my co-guests, I learned about moulages. About incredible Ticino architects. And I was inspired by young Swiss singer ‘Elle,’ who I am sure will make all her dreams come true.
I was the last of us 4 guests.
Kurt and I chatted for 25 minutes about my life, about being transgender, and the challenges of transitioning 30 years ago, when no one was aware yet, and being trans wasn’t discussed on every news and social media channel.
We also talked about the importance of mutual respect in all of our dealings with each other, no matter if we understand one another’s journey or not.
I believe, Kurt, Phil, and I made a difference that evening. Many audience members shook my hand after the show and thanked me for giving them a better glimpse into a subject they had up until then not really understood.
Thank you, dear Kurt and dear Phil, for creating such a wonderful platform for us, the guests on stage as well as the audience, to learn more about each other and celebrate the diversity of human lives and our life experiences, together.
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Come see me on stage in Basel on April 16th
On Sunday, April 16, 2023, come see me on stage in Basel, Switzerland.
I will be one of four guests of Swiss talk show legend Kurt Aeschbacher. And he will surely have an amazing conversation with each of us. For 30 years, Kurt Aeschbacher had his own talk show on Swiss TV. Now he is continuing this legendary, engaging, and inspirational set-up in a new form together with artistic director Phil Dankner, live on stage, in a matinee show at ‘Kulturhuus Haebse’ in Basel.
We will talk about my life, my book, and we’ll try to build bridges and further understanding of what it means to be transgender.
Tickets can be bought here https://www.haebse.ch/spielplan/event-five-et78n-cgxhn-gc7ht. Maybe I’ll see some of you there?
Kurt Aeschbacher’s talks are always compassionate, thoughtful, respectful, and full of a kind curiosity. I won’t know in advance which questions he will ask and where the conversation will lead us. But I am sure it will be a beautiful, memorable morning.
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Traveling Aotearoa and Gazing Within
Currently, I am traveling in Aotearoa, mesmerizingly beautiful New Zealand. On my own, in a camper van, catching up with friends, and attending a wedding along the way. I love this mix of meeting wonderful humans whilst at the same time being able to enjoy lots of quality alone-time. Just me and the breath-taking natural world all around me. In fact, I’m enjoying every moment. Laughing out loud in the van sometimes when the beauty of the world and the joy of being alive hits me full force.
What a contrast to how I felt in 2019, when I was so down, so tired of life, and of fighting to make it in this world, of longing to be loved, that I had to consciously avoid pharmacies, because I knew if I’d set foot inside one, I’d give in, buy a few hundred tablets and take them all in one go. I was so incredibly tired. And so defeated.
The three years since that awful time have been an odyssey during which I’ve gone from having lost almost my entire sense of self-worth and self-confidence to re-building myself yet again. This through finding the courage to look at all that had transpired with a hard, honest eye. To then, eventually, be able to say, “Life is beautiful and you deserve better.”
Even my identity as a trans man, which had taken me a painful twenty years to grow into with confidence, had been seriously shaken in its foundations. I had transitioned when I was 25, in 1996, when I finally understood that I had always been a boy, a man, inside. But it had taken me those two decades to be ok with my scars, to grow into my body, to feel confident in who I was, and to not feel apologetic about being trans anymore.
Then, a statement from a woman I had loved and trusted with all my heart – my now ex-wife – had been the beginning of our lives together and my sense of self unraveling. At first, it had just been one cruel statement. A statement, which still haunts me to this day. When she said to me after living together for 5 years, “Yes, I have an affair. And I don’t feel bad about it. I needed it. For the first time after 5 years I finally feel like a woman again.”
In that moment I felt like someone had detonated an atomic bomb in the room. And just like radiation, her words began eating away at me from the inside. This first statement and many others after about how I just wasn’t good enough, literally reduced me to ashes. And any Phoenix-like antics felt like a million light-years away from being possible.
I felt unseen, worthless, not enough, almost existence-less. And to make matters worse, hearing these thoughts from someone I had thought valued me triggered old traumata from way back. Traumata which were responsible for me not having a sound base to weather an assault like this in the first place.
I’m still overcoming. Growing back into my skin slowly. Learning to love myself again. At this point, I am still scared of ever falling in love again. Scared of ever kissing a woman again and holding each other. Still worried I might not be good enough for anyone. And scared of trusting someone so deeply ever again.
Thankfully, by now I also know that my heart and all the love I feel inside of it, all the love I’m able to give, are strong enough.
Strong enough to eventually help me overcome this feeling of ineptitude.
I will, eventually, embrace another person intimately again and allow myself to be embraced. Yet first I need to keep working on embracing and loving myself fully and unconditionally. I need to learn to show myself the same kindness, love, compassion, patience, and understanding that I always give so easily to others.
For the moment, I am learning to set better boundaries, prioritize my own needs, my own emotional, and mental health. I am looking at my entire life with an honesty and clarity greater and deeper than ever before. And I aim to grow, better myself.
Build an inner base so strong, I’ll be able to navigate all tides and currents around me, and within me, far better. Be vulnerable, yet also rest peacefully within myself.
Being on my current road trip around beautiful Aotearoa, I am amazed at being able to feel unbridled joy again. I’m amazed at how much I enjoy my own company. I speak to myself, and tell myself, “You’re alright.”
Millions of thoughts are going through my head. And I let them all in, allow them to stay for a moment. Because I am, in fact, alright enough for now. I can weather them.
And while I look inward, my eyes, my whole body and soul also look outward, to absorb the magnificent natural wonders all around me.
I’m saying hello to a new lease on life. A new chapter. A better me. Life is beautiful. And so profoundly worth living.
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The Abortion That Never Happened
With all the discussion about abortions and many people courageously putting themselves out there sharing their personal experiences, I thought I’d share a little tidbit with you as well.
A little over 52 years ago my biological mother lived in Stuttgart and had a boyfriend from Italy. She had just moved out at home and was trying to make it on her own. He was a foreign worker who came from Southern Italy.
Both were 18 years old when they met, and both came from very strict, Christian families. Sex was never talked about in their families, and contraception was definitely a taboo.
Like any teenagers who are in love, they soon did have sex, yet had no idea what to do to protect each other.
So, they did the best they could come up with, which was that he always tried to pull out before ejaculating… Until… one night, there was a vehicle collision in the intersection where they lived and one of the cars slammed into the wall of their apartment building exactly when my biological dad climaxed and should have pulled out.
He didn’t, of course, being startled by the deafeningly loud impact of the car which made the entire building shake in its foundations.
His sperm went its merry way, and I was conceived.
It took my mom ages to realize she was pregnant. When she did, my dad and her both panicked. He ran away to Italy, and she tried to go back home to her parents who promptly disowned her because they wanted nothing to do with a sinner who had sex before marriage.
My biological mom had no choice but to go to the only place back then that would take her: a refuge for pregnant prostitutes, where they were allowed to stay until they gave birth.
Abortion was never discussed. She was never given a choice. And thus the road to disaster was paved.
As soon as my mom gave birth, she was told to leave the shelter. Then the German state took charge and declared her unfit to raise a child due to not having any family support.
They took me away from her at 3 months old and brought me to an orphanage.
What ensued from there were incredible hardships and struggles for both her and I.
Traumata and pain that never healed on both sides.
So, I ask, what gives anyone the right to tell a young woman who finds herself at a dead end what to do? It is her life and the life of her child which hangs in the balance. It should be no one’s decision but hers.
And adoption is, from own experience, a bit like Russian Roulette. You can get lucky or plunge from one nightmare straight into the next one…
Outlawing abortion is about as far away from being pro-life as I can possibly imagine. It is a blatant violation of human rights.
And no one, especially not a bunch of privileged white males, should ever be allowed to tell women what to do with their bodies.
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The Amazing Zurich PRIDE Parade
Yesterday, on June 18th, 2022, the annual Zurich PRIDE parade took place in the center of town. It was the first parade after the pandemic. And it was fabulous in so many ways… let me tell you more…
Arriving at the meeting point, I already thought, “Oh, there are way more people here than in the years before.” However, at the time, I didn’t see all the PRIDE participants who didn’t fit into Helvetia square but were waiting in the adjacent streets for the parade to begin.
When the 8 trucks started going, everyone cheered and our parade slowly, slowly began making its way through downtown Zurich. As soon as we all filed into one of the larger streets it became quite obvious that we had far surpassed the usual approximately 10’000 participants.
All around me was a sea of rainbows, goodwill, and happiness. It was so strong and tangible in the air, you could almost touch it, bottle it, and take it home with you as an antidote for dreary, less inclusive days.
I wondered why people had turned up in such high numbers in our small metropolis. Maybe it was a general urge people felt to throw themselves into the masses after being cooped up at home for so long? Or maybe it was the fact that on July 1st, 2022, the same sex marriage will be officially legalized in Zurich? Or, maybe, times really are changing and have changed much more than we even realize?
This year’s parade motto was “Trans – Living Diversity.”
We had gone as a team with members of the PRIDE network of our company, BCG. A few allies came along as well which was fabulous. All of us together had a great time and we spent most of the day losing each other, then searching and finding each other again in this sea of joyful human beings.
As we immersed ourselves more deeply into the parade, we began following one truck in particular. It was bright green and offered by far the best DJ of all the trucks in the parade. The music was fantastic. Getting your body moving all on its own.
Even more fantastic was that on the side of the truck was written in large letters “Trans Rights Now” and on the back of the truck the creative organizers had written in flowers “Heroes.”
Letting the beat go through me, I felt the words and actions of the people around me going through me as well. And I was in tears (joyful ones!) most of the time.
When I transitioned 27 years ago, it had been such an isolated, lonely road. And definitely no one considered us to be heroes.
I had been luckier than most to have amazing friends who, for the most part, stuck by me and still do, to this day. I had also been lucky to live in a country where I didn’t need to fear for me life due to being a trans man.
But, nevertheless, I had needed to jump through way too many, emotionally painful, bureaucratic hoops. And, over the years, living and working abroad in 11 different countries, I often did need to fear for my safety and my life.
But in the first few years of transitioning, the bureaucratic and medical processes were the hardest. The doctors who did the surgery to remove my breasts didn’t care much to do a good job and left me with enormous scars. For many years this made it hard for me to take my shirt off in public.
Then, I was assigned to a psychiatrist who sabotaged me when giving his professional evaluation needed by the authorities. This man deduced I wasn’t manly enough because he felt my handshake wasn’t strong enough. So, he wrote that I wasn’t truly transgender. Thankfully another psychiatrist supported me all the way and ended up being the heavier weight on the scale.
After injecting testosterone for the first time, it took 10 years until I was finally allowed to change my gender in all official papers. For most of those 10 years, I already looked like a man and spent way too many moments needing to explain to total strangers in official places why I looked like a man but had a passport that stated me as female.
I always tried to move on and see the positive side of life. For the most part, I succeeded (interspersed by the odd depression and anxiety attacks). Overall, however, if I am completely honest to myself and to you, there were way too many long years of challenges, adversity, hardship, and pain.
So, seeing this wonderful, boisterous truck in the parade, and seeing so much evidence of support for trans people, I was overwhelmed by a flood of emotions.
Never had I thought I would ever see a pro-trans parade like this. Never had I expected to see a truck like this, loudly and happily proclaiming “Here we are!”
Several of the large businesses along the streets we were marching through put up enormous rainbow banners.
It was scorching hot. In some houses people were throwing fans from their balconies into the crowd (when I say “fans,” I mean the kind you use to refresh yourself by propelling air towards your face, not the human kind).
In many other houses along our route, the inhabitants were using hoses, buckets, water bottles, anything that could hold a little water to pour over the crowd. Each squirt and drop of water raining down on us from above resulted in loud cheers of thankfulness from hundreds of people.
We even passed a church where several old ladies helped rehydrate us as well. A sight which again brought me to tears in its infinite kindness and clear display of love, mutual respect, and open-mindedness.
Overall, a day to remember forever.
And, as we found out afterwards through the news, it had been 40’000 people who took part in this year’s Zurich PRIDE parade!
40’000! Plus the amazing supporters all along the parade who were showering us with water and preventing us from sun stroke.
Here is to diversity and inclusion, and the freedom to be exactly who you know you are!
💛🧡❤️💚💙💜
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Defined by Water
It’s time to stay close to home for a while… simply to be careful with finances… and also because, quite honestly, I just love my rooftop apartment with its little terrace. Even more, I love sitting on said terrace for hours together with my room mates JoJo and Luna, two adorable felines who I can’t imagine living without at this point. They soothe my soul and make me happy every moment of every day.
But I do get out for walks as often as I can, exploring the neighbourhood, downtown area, as well as the outskirts of my home town Zurich.
Water is what defines Zurich most of all. Lake Zurich, the old moat called “Schanzengraben”, the river Limmat, and the river Sihl. I never get tired of strolling along those bodies of water. In most cases they are lined with beautiful cityscapes as well, interspaced by parks. Or, further down the river Limmat, the riverside is lined with cozy cafes. And graffiti, glowing brightly in all colors of the rainbow.
After many years of living and working abroad, I am rediscovering my home and learning to love it with fresh eyes.
Liam Klenk 