Hermann K
0
His dreams are jellybeans. His causes jellyfish.
1
All day long he felt a strange loneliness for the shadow of an image of a hand, a blurry photographed hand, the hand of a woman or a man, a hand stretched out like a dormer window. It was pointed out that the hand could have been his own.
2
A man whose legs are invisible in certain conditions, in certain weather.
3
He spends his life in the room, cycling on a bike and groping in his display cabinets. Keeping displayed there bloody remnants of the street, newspaper and playbills and carrier bags. His need to be pulled through the stories of the house by a rope around his neck, shredding and dropping remnants of himself so that he is empty above the roof.
4
The walk. The agency of walking. Your mind blown like a bubble or dandelion head while walking, every inch a sparrow.
5
In the morning leaning against the dock he said: I said at the time that you liked dead wood.
Reply: I did because it is like dry or running bees.
7
We decided to leave early in order to make the most use of the light.
For minutes you rubbed your eyes as if you had beards growing in them. This I considered tasteless, however, I remembered your grandfather.
By 9 AM we had reached the frozen lake, in the center your legs stuck out at different acute angles. Once they were retrieved, you were capable of making a joke.
8
I am not in any way blaming you or suggesting
that it is your fault or
was in any way unavoidable due
to your nature for causing so
much suffering, hammering ruthlessly.
8 You complained in public
I made all this noise about your work when the fact is that I was right. Despite the sympathy I sometimes had for your tiredness at the office you could rush away from me and spend whole afternoons on the sofa.
His dreams are jellybeans. His causes jellyfish.
1
All day long he felt a strange loneliness for the shadow of an image of a hand, a blurry photographed hand, the hand of a woman or a man, a hand stretched out like a dormer window. It was pointed out that the hand could have been his own.
2
A man whose legs are invisible in certain conditions, in certain weather.
3
He spends his life in the room, cycling on a bike and groping in his display cabinets. Keeping displayed there bloody remnants of the street, newspaper and playbills and carrier bags. His need to be pulled through the stories of the house by a rope around his neck, shredding and dropping remnants of himself so that he is empty above the roof.
4
The walk. The agency of walking. Your mind blown like a bubble or dandelion head while walking, every inch a sparrow.
5
In the morning leaning against the dock he said: I said at the time that you liked dead wood.
Reply: I did because it is like dry or running bees.
7
We decided to leave early in order to make the most use of the light.
For minutes you rubbed your eyes as if you had beards growing in them. This I considered tasteless, however, I remembered your grandfather.
By 9 AM we had reached the frozen lake, in the center your legs stuck out at different acute angles. Once they were retrieved, you were capable of making a joke.
8
I am not in any way blaming you or suggesting
that it is your fault or
was in any way unavoidable due
to your nature for causing so
much suffering, hammering ruthlessly.
8 You complained in public
I made all this noise about your work when the fact is that I was right. Despite the sympathy I sometimes had for your tiredness at the office you could rush away from me and spend whole afternoons on the sofa.