At no. 27 Viktoriastrasse, in Berne, a young woman lies on her bed ... She stares at the photograph, then out into time. The future is beckoning ... The woman catches her breath. She is fifty years old. She lies on her bed, tries to remember her life, stares at a photograph of herself as...Read More
Power? Bullshit. You sweat to build a block with 46 apartments and an earthquake can flatten it in one instant ... You commanded people “Do this or that you worms!” and there comes that pain in your belly and you rush ridiculously to the toilet, as everybody else does...Read More
I was biting a sprig of myrtle so that I should not shout out. Because I was aware that my mouth was widening for a great cry, and my teeth too were breaking apart, separating, to leave a way through for that cry. I held it in. It dissolved inside me. This was the silence.Read More
Mine is the weakness, mine the loneliness, and the laughter of my adult life passing by hurts me like the flames of matches that someone lights by striking them on the delicate tissue of my heart.Read More
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