Sonnenfreunde , he thought. Friends of the sun. Not because we love the light. But because we have learned not to fear the shadows. This story is dedicated to every first-timer who stood at the edge of a meadow and chose courage. In 2021, after a year of isolation and clothed anxiety, we relearned what Uwe and Lukas know: Nudity is not exposure. It is return.
The morning light filtered through the high canopy of the old oak grove, dappling the grass in shifting gold. Uwe stretched on his towel, the rough bark of the ancient tree against his back a familiar comfort. He had been coming to Freiheit am See for twenty years. He knew every path, every sun-drenched meadow, and every regular.
Uwe said nothing. He simply turned his own torso toward the sun, revealing the long, silvery line from his own heart surgery, and the mottled skin of a melanoma removal on his shoulder. Sonnenfreunde Magazine 2021
By Karl Vogt
The man scanned the meadow. Two elderly women were playing Schafkopf under a beech tree. A family with teenagers was splashing at the water’s edge. Everyone was at ease. Everyone except him. Sonnenfreunde , he thought
Then, slowly, Lukas unbuttoned his shorts. He folded them carefully, placed them in his bag, and stood up. The scars across his ribs and abdomen were indeed vivid—purple in places, white in others, like lightning frozen on skin.
That’s when he heard the hesitation.
Uwe watched him wade in up to his waist, then gasp as the cool water embraced him. After a moment, Lukas turned back toward the shore. For the first time that morning, he smiled. A real smile. The kind that starts in the chest, not the cheeks.