the baker's dress

In the Nomadic Village you can be what you want to be. I am the village baker.
Last year, when I walked for 96 days to reach the Nomadic Village in Austria in one of my suits, I asked the Nomads beforehand to all bring me a clothing item I could wear during the 14 days we spent together. Anything. Instead of wearing my walking suit I wanted to be a collection of the Nomads' tastes.

The mother of one of the Nomads gave her a dress for me to borrow. A red woolen dress she had once bought in New York when she was celebrating her wedding anniversary there with her husband. I decided to wear the dress in the early mornings when it was chilly and I was baking bread. In style. White flour on a red dress. It seemed to make sense.

She gave me the dress to keep and this year I brought it to the Village again. And again I wear it in the mornings.

Today I baked a muesli bread and a fig-kardamom-pine nut bread in the morning. In the evening there was a slightly salty garlic-rosemary bread with the dinner. Tomorrow there might be cornbread. Yellow on red. Supported by golden shoes of course.