Ishtar was a beautiful girl. You might say, many girls are handsome, some even beautiful. I say ,Ishtar was a beautiful girl. Many girls and I am often jealous are pretty, often in their early twenties, they just look good, in a very relaxed way. I was never to be counted among them. But this doesn’t matter. In this matter, it has to be stated that Ishtar was a beautiful girl. You, who do not know Ishtar yet, might encounter this sentence with unbelieving amazement and with no less right than anyone else, let alone myself, you might say: we do not know Ishtar. How should we know, if she was beautiful at all? We never saw Ishtar, how should we believe that she is as you say? And you would wonder even more, when I would tell you that I never met or saw Ishtar, the girl by myself, once I came close to that , but not close enough. But Ishtar is not a beauty you might find in a Ted Baker dress, Ishtar’s beauty can’t be counted in terms of greek noses, alabaster skin, pearl-white teeth or Dolly Parton breasts. Ishtar is different, Ishtar, the beautiful girl. But did Ishtar fall out of time? No, never. Ishtar saw most times, saw the woods burn, saw cities rising, knew many emperor’s close, she knew even more cold fingers on her lips. The dead are long gone, but Ishtar always comes and goes alive. This is the beauty of Ishtar. Sometimes many years pass by, but this is what times does, whereas Ishtar never was a passerby. Those who will see Ishtar, won’t take their off her, won’t be able to watch without trembling hands and shaking fingers. But the chroniclers are still silent, for many years no one opened a new page, no one cut a new feather, the ink already is a rest of black coal. But if she would be seen, everything would be different, would immediately change. Is she small or large, you tend to ask me further, but I ask you back: What is classified as ’small‘ or ‚ large‘? Who shapes ways of looking through such terms? Ishtar would have laughed at you and at me. Because we forget how much life was in her beauty. Look at me, she would say. This is impossible, we would answer. It is not longer possible to see the sun chariot, we lost sight of Prometheus who lit the fire even if we like it warm in winter too, Hermes and his winged sandals disappeared beyond the clouds that never lightened. Things just are, people say nowadays. And while the people are not coming anymore, late at night bearing news,sometimes they hold death in their mouth, sometimes the joy of spring, sometimes they saw a girls called Ishtar, then everybody opened the door to let her in, standing shoulder and shoulder, if Ishtar came, we still don’t know and while we are waiting once again, we state, we repute and we say: Ishtar, the girl, was beautiful.