Who I am is why I write

I am Robin. And that´s not my fault.

You might know me from such award-missing performances as the donkey in the critically acclaimed 1991 stage production of The town musicians of Bremen (I don’t want to talk about it) or as a blurred German WWII soldier not knowing how to hold a gun in the Finnish novel adaptation Katilo.

I was born into a formerly one-child family in an idyllic town that A Big Plate of Sideorders describes as follows:

My city was a small and well-off, grown together out of many even smaller settlements and fed by its university and a big international company; a bucolic town where not too many things ever happened. It was a clean, safe place and the only popular song containing its name and declaring to list things to know about it was basically about how there was nothing to know about it at all. This was not entirely true of course: one of the corner stones of the internet had been invented here. But the creators had failed to patent it and so no one had turned into an eccentric household name kazillionaire and no one knew about the story. And no one knew about the city. It had only just celebrated its first millennium and it would stand another one without being on the map. I had never wanted to leave.

And then, of course, other things happened. Like Erasmus. And two rings on two fingers on two separate people. And I left.

Currently in beautiful Vilnius, I continue what I did when I was a child and wrote of foreign stars or when I was a teen and wrote about my grandfather or when I was 22 and figured I might just write a novel (which I finished when I was 32). I assume: There is more to come. And this is where you can read about it.


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