Ever since I can remember my mother, there has always been something inexplicable, something permanently threaten to take her lust for life. At some point, more than a decade ago, this dark cloud seemed to be named: Multiple Sclerosis. In the area where she grew up, she has never been able to contract a close friendship with anyone. She also never had a relationship after she was divorced from my father 26 years ago. As this unstoppable physical illness got worse over time, she had to retire at an early age. So the impacts were not only tremendous financial worries for decades, but a total disconnection from any social environment. Loneliness. As a former figure skater, passionate race cyclist and geriatric nurse it has been a depressing process of realizing that there is not more than a wheelchair left, no more alpine pass to be climbed and no capacity to care about others left. To feel that you are the one who should be supported by your loved-ones. As her son, I don‘t want to draw a portrait of a physical illness. I want to tell the story of a woman who is brave enough to accept the dark cloud, filled with fragility, bitterness, desperation, weariness and hope. The thin line between total weariness of life and a childish surgency on life, on which she is permanently walking. In 2017 she left the place where all her burdens grew over the past life. Throughout this movement, she seems to make peace with her physical restrictions which means, that her inner life starts to flourish again.