I had never known her to lie.
Everything was a kind of game.
I’d got used to being mostly alone.
Everything was still stripped and bare.
I didn’t know what to do with it.
There’s nothing I can do for you.
I don’t know what that was.
But there was no dream.
So you had it coming, in a way.
All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.
You’re both and neither.
Out of nowhere.
The hard part was singing.
Keeping time wasn’t hard for you.
That was the sound of pain.
Old songs that sang to the old sadness you always kept as close as skin.
No one wants to talk to the guy cleaning up.
Sadness came in the quiet of the street.
But inside every kind of sound lurked a sadness.
The world was made of sound.
Everything could be drumming.
You were finding out that everything made a sound.
But it is so, so beautiful.
This is a little komisch.
Something to hold on to.
You need something underneath the language.
They passed like afternoon hours, like breath.
One never noticed the soothing parts of life.
I don’t even understand me.
But we have to do something, don’t we?
It was as if they were moving backward in time.
Like a dream that lasted for years.
He had a full life, a full world.
Would she become happy there, given time?
Was she happy in her new place?
If only he could float through the window.
Perhaps it is time for a break.
I watch the trains.
Immediately the atmosphere changed.
He had never been really good at appearing relaxed.
I see we have a few new faces.
So let me explain the rules.
Is this Intermediate German?
The lightness returned.
Was time playing with him, or was he playing with time?
Suddenly his life meant something.
He sang along as loudly as he could.
He now missed how time had seemed to stand still at those moments.
He now had a better sense of how this might work.
He wasn’t sure how this would work.
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