The Continent
There was no knock on the door; the explosion came while we were preparing for the holidays. Dad stood in the corner, rattling his keys, while Mum called to us from the doorway. No one could hear our voices or screams. We were thrown, like lightning, into nowhere. The war still exists. There are killers everywhere, watching our fear and listening to our breathing, but no one is listening.
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Metric
Looking out of the window, he thinks about his hopes as he watches the shattered pieces of his life spread out against the clear, sunny blue sky. Away from here, everything is bright and cheerful. The freedom of separation; the relief of daydreaming. Meanwhile, someone is waiting on the platform while someone else steps out of the rain and walks away. Behind the glass is a fragile comfort of theories and almost nothing in the bag. He looks at something written outside. He will discover the meaning of the old black-and-white photograph, just as he will when he sees his reflection in the glass. As soon as he reaches the final stop, he heads for the exit, pretending to be himself — at least for today.
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Rehearsal
Two thousand years have passed, and it seems that this place has been lost forever. The wind has blown away any sense of belonging, bringing dust from other places with it. In a few hours, I’ll be a ghost. I have seen much worse. I remember trying to learn the enemy’s language, but now all we have is a lost place in our memories. There is no one in this land who will survive. I told you we wouldn’t survive.
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Bahnhof Potsdamer Platz
“I am hungover and steer myself like a car
through the crowds at Alexanderplatz station (…)
Tomorrow bruises will develop on my skin,
like a picture from a negative.”
— Anna Funder, Stasiland.
The bodies hidden in their cities are souls without space. A kind of ignorance paralyses us. There’s no need to cross the wall and go west — we’ve missed the train. Was the Great Road a prize for strangers? It’s dark in the desert; a ruined plan for summer holidays. We know our desires, yet we cannot see the wall. Will anyone wait for us if we find the courage to cross it? This is the second time you have ordered the beginning of an old war. Everything has been brought back after years and a voluntary coma. May the same power that predestined this moment take charge of sealing its end.
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Stranger
The boundless night came to crown your victory. The streets were peaceful and empty. You seemed vainer than ever before, satisfied with your victory. Seeking revenge and pleasure, you felt proud. The further you walked, the darker the streets became — but you had seen the light, hadn’t you? You tried to stop thinking; the turmoil in your mind was exhausting and anger-inducing. The music in the living room and the frightened voice begging for mercy made you wonder if you were bringing back ghosts. The final act, the final performance, made you feel like a stranger.
// 2007 \\
reescrever 