JANUARY 2007: My career as flight attendant/purser for Lufthansa ends with flights to New York, Los Angeles and São Paulo.

MARCH 2007: I cycle along my street. The sun is shining, I have no money and no responsibilities. It is time to go and I leave everything behind me. It is spring, sunny, I am in love and look forward to my future in another city, Berlin.

APRIL 2007: My first trip to Africa. I go to Ghana. I am completely out of my depth and glad there are two of us.

APRIL 2007: I have been waiting for days for an answer from Marie to be able to plan my project for the Ruhrtriennale properly – and then I see the news on "NZZ-Online": She is dead.

MAY 2007: I am granted a full scholarship to study a Master program anywhere I want. The best reward to hard work is to keep working hard. So I move to London.

JUNE 2007: I’ve been walking the night-swept streets with my glasses off. If I squint my eyes, the blurred dots of traffic are flattened. As I walk, the city begins reluctantly to let go; rice paddies surface by the side of the road. I begin to talk out loud to the moon; she doesn’t answer.

JULY 2007: My grandfather lies pale in my aunt's and grandmother's arms. Our eyes meet one last time. Then I run out of the room.

JULY 2007: My father dies of old age. I still miss him terribly every day.

JULY 2007: I invest 5,000 Euros in a risky game of chance.

JULY 2007: After virtual interviews in Second Life I am flown to San Francisco by Linden Labs to introduce myself personally.

AUGUST 2007: I receive an offer to leave the place of work which I don't like at all, and throw myself into this new adventure.

SEPTEMBER 2007: Lenka is born in the large maternity unit in a Prague hospital. Another baby is born, separated from us only by a curtain. I stand there amazed with a father I don't know and we hug each other with tears in our eyes.

SEPTEMBER 2007: My son is born. In hospital. The pianist is there.

OCTOBER 2007: RER A, Paris subway. Two guys get beaten up by some kids, nobody moves, nobody reacts. Neither do I. It's violent. I get off at the next station, most of the people stay in the coach, as if nothing was happening.

DECEMBER 2007: A friend made me promise to finally come out to my parents in the year 2007. The year passes, it is Christmas and I still haven't managed to do it. On the 28th of December I have to go back to my mother's and I blurt it out. She had no idea. On 30th of December I make a special effort to go see my father. His first reaction is: "But then we'll die out!" and then: "It would be worse if you were seriously ill." Resolution completed.

DECEMBER 2007: I miss her. Not constantly, just little flashes of reddish-grey that occur between idle thoughts. The flashes nip at my heels, reminding me to keep moving forward. The further you go, the more distance you put between yourself and the past.