Markus Weber

THE
ROVER

A Novel 
of wo(u)nd(er)ing


30th of  April 1997

For Lynne Washington, who has endured me for so long.  
For my daughters Kyra and Alicia on their way.
For my son Sean, so that he understands me.
For Louisa, through her everything is clear.
For my friends, who carried me, without letting me know.




PART I

Does God exist?
I am God!
You are God!
We all are God!
For if there is no me,
and no you,
therefore no us and we,
then there is no God.


Chapter 1

The father hemmed, in his inimitable kind and said: "She may go into the garden, stay in the lounge and in her own room.  Watch out, that she does not go to the Whisky. You'll manage."

'Come on, leave.' thought Paul. He just had turned thirteen and was utterly happy, that he did not have to climb the mountains on this Sunday.  Since he was three years old, his parents dragged him from mountain peak to ridge, from rock face to crest. Paul hated these climbing tours. He felt sick, when he thought of the cruel marches, which could last up to ten hours.  His parents just loved the Tyrolian Alps and simply did not understand that he could not share this love. Since he was able to think, he scorned Tyrol with each fiber of his heart. With his Nanny, the endlessly beloved Gretl, he often was allowed to travel to Germany. To the foreign country. Abroad. Gretl came from a minute village, nearby the city of Donauwörth, in Bavaria. The landscape there suited little Paul much more, than the grim mountain ranges of Tyrol. The countryside, around the village of Ebermergen, was soft, reassuring and not as awfully aggressive, as the dark face of the Bettelwurf, this cruel mountain, which moved in on him, very closely, in the yellow foen light, threatening to kill one instantly. The Bettelwurf was the Punishment Mountain. Whenever one of the children had done something terrible, like pinching chocolate from their mothers secret reservoir, the verdict was: Next weekend - Bettelwurf! That was mean, for this mountain is raw rock. On the way up, one will find no shadow and must climb almost unswervingly, without deviation, steeply uphill.  The tour lasts always a good ten hours. Surely - Tyrol had also good sides. Sometimes.

"Just turn the stove on three and warm the meal, I have pre-cooked. Do you hear me? Paul!" snapped his mother.
"[MW1]Always." said Paul and wished his mother to be on the Serles.  That had been his first mountain.  At the tender age of three years, he had to slouch along the eight hours to the summit and his parents still showed around that, for them so wonderful, picture on which the mother pushes the three-year old softly through the screes.
"Well then, Cheerio, Paul!" the father murmured heartlessly and went out to the car, in which the other four siblings already waited.  The girls, Susn and Babs, at the windows in the back, the eleven year old, Urs, was allowed to travel along on his mothers lap in the front and the senior, Ulrich, sat between the sisters - because he was already reasonable and the oldest. Paul stood by the door and waved the white Studebaker joyfully Good-bye. His father was often called the doctor with the magic hood.  And Paul thought that was only too right. His father did not think much of taking care of the large American car.  He raged around with it, up the most dangerous mountain roads - thereby he very frequently lost the door handles, if, once again, a tunnel was too narrow.  Rather often the muffler tore off too and even though it always lasted six weeks, until the new one had arrived from America, his father, the Doctor with the magic hood, did not care at all, that every one in the whole of Tyrol knew immediately, who was coming, when he thundered, with the still defective car, through the city.  He was just blasé about it.
"As a psychiatrist I get away with this." was always his easy answer, to anxious questions from friends.
'My father.' Paul thought. 'Hopefully I will never be like him.'
However, on this wonderful Sunday, he liked him.  His father of course did not suspect what kind of a present he had given Paul.  Pay attention to the house patient.  Not having to climb the Serles. Wonderful.  And Ludmilla, the patient, was completely nice.  Well, she always had cold, damp hands, smoked like a chimney and drank like an Alps cow. But one could talk with her. He had asked the father once, what was wrong with her. He only gave him an evasive answer and murmured something about marriage problems and depressions.
"Hello." it sighed behind him and Paul turned around in shock.
'Damns!'  He thought. 'When will I ever not be frightened so easily any more.'  
Since he was three, Paul had panicky fear in the darkness.  He then was just able to open the front doors and it was in the fall, during pumpkin time - almost time for Halloween. It rang at the front door and he joyfully ran there, stretched himself, opened the door and passed out.  Outside was standing a pumpkin monster with threatening, luminous eyes. Paul could and did not want to remember, when he woke up again.  Since that day, he also suffered, four years long, from heaviest asthma, which had improved itself in the past years. His parents did not know that the asthma was gone, for sickness was a terrific weapon against many injustices in a child's life.

"Now we are completely alone." purred Ludmilla.  "Want to walk?"  
"Ahrr! Dad thinks, you are only allowed into the garden, the lounge and your own room. I am responsible - today."
"So small and already so responsible." Ludmilla laughed.  
She was not very tall, blond, with mostly rather confused hair.  That gave her a charming eccentricity.  She usually wore very tight cloths and almost see-through silk blouses, so one could see her boobs quite clearly. Sometimes Paul had the impression, that she even did not wear a bra, because her nipples often pressed through the thin material.  Today she sported trousers with a blow and a thin, pink blouse, which was unbuttoned rather far.
"Then we go on a garden walk," she said. "You come along?"  
She wandered ahead, through the large living room.  Paul did not want to go into the garden, but what could he do. He followed her. The sun was shining and it was wonderfully warm. A glorious day. Ludmilla momentarily calmed down under the large tree of heart-cherries, stretched herself, like a cat and purred:  
"Like this life is beautiful. Come and sit down with me. Tell me an adventure from your life!"
Hesitating Paul sat down.  As she lay there, she looked very beautiful.  His damned little brother started to stir.  It was really a torment, if one had had his first, full-blown ejaculation at the age of ten and then had to wait, until the law admitted anything into the direction of love, or sexual intercourse. Paul then was quickly enlightened on the facts of light. He was sent to a boarding School for one year, because he did not pass his Grammar School Test in Tyrol. Tyrol always took pride in the fact, that the country had the best schools and only the best were allowed to attend a higher School. In the rest of Austria, everybody who wanted was allowed into a grammar School - so his parents sent him away, to make sure, that their second son would be a highly qualified member of society. Paul thought, he would die, when he discovered the spot on the coverlet.  He searched his whole body, whether he was hurt somewhere. But he could find nothing and thought, his body was sweating out something evil. Unluckily he told his headmaster - a catholic monk of the St. Frances brotherhood, about the spots. The monk, in his eternal wisdom, called his parents and so they arrived the next weekend, to talk to him about the matter. He hardly was able to recognize his mother, since she had turned blond all the sudden. For what reason, Paul never found out. But he never forgot the strange, foreign and distant feeling it gave him. It was shortly before Easter and his father obviously felt very much attached to the spirit of Christ and could not hold back his moral anger very well. On a brief, brisk walk, he lectured Paul.  His father had funny viewpoints about the truth.  He mediated his truth as brutally and hard as possible. He never left anybody the choice, to protect him or herself from this truth.  If one was an idiot, in his father's book, then he put that truth onto and into that poor bugger as quickly as possible. Ruthless, harsh, cruel, cold, painful, devastating. He did not bother around with Paul for very long and used exactly the same method with his unknowing, second son. He barked a short Good bye, shuffled the blond mother into the car and roared off - to Vienna. Much more important, to catch a performance of Rigoletto, at the Vienna Sate Opera - much more important, to tell Paul later, that they were waving a warm 'Hello' to the School, which was visible from the Highway, on their way back to Tyrol, the day after. A warm Hello, but not five minutes to stop, have lunch, talk, laugh, are mother, father and son for a short, but precious time. The doctor with the magic hood and his blond wife. Who were they? What were they? Where were they? 

At this time, Paul began to read mature books, to perhaps, find a definite understanding for the explosive enlightenment; his father had given him. The secret reading forced sheer torments of hell upon Paul. He was lying, wide-awake, through the nights. He suffered. His Penis never did what Paul wanted. It came alive and did not let Paul join in. So Paul decided, to call his penis by a name: 'My little brother' - because its behavior felt quite similar to the one of his two younger brothers. They also never took any notice and got themselves into mischief, when and how ever they wanted too. Sometimes Paul groaned so loudly, that he was reported to the superior. When he was back in Tyrol, his mother woke up and thought, he again had one of his Asthma attacks. Paul then acted out some panting, for if he got no air, the parents were always completely nice to him and did not ask too many questions. Paul was the black sheep of the large family.  Surely, quiet often he really had done something wrong. But, mostly he had to stand in, for all the mischief of one of his brothers and sisters.  At the, weekly, Family Court Sessions, which were organized by his parents, because they must have misunderstood some recent psychological development, Paul was always the defendant.  Ulrich was the judge, Urs the district attorney and Babs, his dear sister, his defender.  Since Ulrich had to go with Paul to the boarding School, so that the small brother would not feel so completely left alone, since that time, the senior of the Liver kids showed his distinctive hate for Paul rather undisguised.  The court sessions proceeded very disciplined, like in a genuine courtroom, and Babs fought like a true lioness for Paul.  However, if the judge hates, the best devence loses.  Paul meanwhile had got used to this condition.  To be condemned did not bother him any more. One day, he would be the judge and condemn his parents to thirty days of being Paul.  On this day, Paul would be as happy as a Snow King.

"Kiss me." murmured Ludmilla. While daydreaming, Paul had fully forgotten Ludmilla. 
"Stroke me!" she whispered and her hand crawled, like a small snake, through the grass, in direction of his trousers. Paul laughed a short and very silly laugh.
'What should I merely do?' raged his thoughts. He had infernal fear, for he knew nothing.
"The neighbors." he gasped.
Ludmilla changed the direction of her hand and now the snake grasped his hand firmly and pulled him up. Silently Ludmilla led, the fully shocked Paul, into direction terrace, hopped, like a small girl, up the staircase and dragged him into the living room.  She was a head taller than Paul was. She stopped, directly in front of the clock, which the grandfather, from Tübingen, had donated and looked Paul deeply into his eyes.  She stared, as if she would like to see herself in him. Her hands drove, endlessly slowly, over Paul's legs. Up and down, in one slow rhythm. Tormenting. 
'Damns, damns, damns,' Paul thought, 'damns I get a hard on. Embarrassing. God, how embarrassing. In a second, she'll laugh at me.'

Instead, Ludmilla began to slowly direct her strokes towards his 'little brother'. She did not touch his, painfully erected, penis. She just circled it with her sharp nails. Paul would have been permitted to scream.  He stood, trembling, in front of Ludmilla and did not know what to do.

"Smell me!" she whispered and pulled his head, completely softly, towards her wide-open blouse.
There they were - for the first time he finally was near them. There they stood, like soldiers, with hard nipples in the middle of the rosy court. 
"They are not as large as I thought."  Paul murmured delighted.  
"For you, they are large enough." Ludmilla laughed. "Kiss my nipples!" 
And Paul did it.  
"Suck at them!" 
And Paul did it.
"Bite them!" 
And Paul did it.
Ludmilla began to groan softly.
"Harder!" 
And Paul bit.
With a scream Ludmilla tore his head back and kissed him.  Her tongue drove through his lips, she played with his teeth and soon with his surprised tongue, sucked him in, like a drowning princess. Suddenly, she let loose and stood, heavily breathing, in front of him. Only now Paul noticed that they were still standing in front of grandfather's clock. Outside, a blackbird sang and from the next door houses waved patches of Music. Ludmilla unbuttoned her blouse and dropped it carelessly.  Paul did not know, whether she was beautiful, but in this moment, she was the most glorious thing, he ever had seen. She slowly peeled off her trousers, only to let him discover that she wore no slip.

'Finally! Dear God, I thank you.  Now I believe, that you really exist.' Paul thought.  He stood in front of this secret wonder, admiringly examining and still was unable to do anything with her.  Ludmilla calmed down on the large Persian rug, which was his fathers one and only pride.
 
'The family is now just crossing the snow border and I am ready, to cross any border.' smiled Paul within himself. Ludmilla flared up, with her toes, at his pants and knocked softly on his fly.
"Get rid of your trousers. Only your trousers!" came her soft, but firm order.
Paul was brought up very well and took off the trousers.  He almost came, in premature excitement and stumbled. However, a thirteen-year-old, perfectly trained, down hill ski racer, has control of a stable balance. Ludmilla now spread her legs wide open and Paul could not take his eyes of the wonderful sight. In the anatomical books, which his father carefully locked away in his office, not knowing, that Paul was a whiz in using nails, to open locks, he secretly had looked for bare women. However, these scientific photographs showed nothing like the wonderful sight, which was offered to him now.

"Come - come to me, my Paul." it cooed from the Persian rug and Paul settled himself beside Ludmilla and started to discover this miracle with his fingertips.  
'Now for the first time I understand, why the word to comprehend also means, to get it.' Paul thought.  
Ludmilla began to sprawl about; she trembled, especially when he stroked her nipples.  Suddenly, she took his hand and led it below. Down, to where this silky, soft tuft of hair was waiting. She led his hand to her pudenda and started, endlessly tender, to move it up and down, around and around. Out of a strange, unknown impulse, Paul bowed suddenly into Ludmilla's lap.  He kissed her with shameless gentleness, drove with the tip of his tongue through her fingers, licked her nakedness, drove more deeply, nibbled softly on the rosy lips and opened them, instinctively, with the tip of his tongue. Ludmilla seemed to explode.  She groaned, screamed, her nails dug into his back, she tore his head to her mouth, sucked herself firmly into and pulled him, with suddenly great power and force, on top of herself and into her. Like lunatics, they rolled over the carpet, until Ludmilla, suddenly, sat upon him.  Paul did not know any longer, what was happening to him. The sweat ran down his face, came from all pores, as Ludmilla rode on him, like a fury.  He felt himself rising higher and higher, ready to explode and one fraction before the top of the climax, like through a thick mist, he heard the doorbell ring. 

They both froze momentarily.  Hardly able to breathe, they stared at each other, in great amazement. Had the doorbell really rung?  There - again was this irritating ring. It rang and as if the bell was the ultimate sign, they both climaxed at the same time. Paul - the virgin - for the first time in his young life - and not only in his wild dreams, but also with a real woman. Suddenly, Paul was panic struck. He pushed Ludmilla off, grabbed his trousers, thank God that he had never taken off his shirt and stormed, barefoot as he was, to the front door.  He took three deep breaths, ran his fingers through his hair and opened the door. Outside stood Mrs. Fox, the next doors neighbor. 

"Hi, Mrs. Fox." he said calmly. "What can I do for you?"
"Is something wrong, Paul? Who is screaming around like a nut?"
"Arr - I mean - you know - yes - the patient - I mean Ludmilla - she is a little bit - hmm - well - yes, I have to take care of her today, but she fights it."
"Fights what?"  Mrs. Fox asked.
"She wants to go for a walk, but my father has said, she may only go into the garden."  
Mrs. Fox approached, dangerously close and tried to squint around the corner, into the house.  Softly Paul pushed her outside again.
"Everything is all right. I've got this under control, Mrs. Fox."  
"You are bleeding. Why are you bleeding?"
"I bleed?  Where?"
"Well there. Look."
Paul glanced at his left shoulder.  There was actually blood on his shirt.  
"I must have scratched myself. It is OK. Sorry, that it got so loud.  I really can manage alone. Now I'll cook and I'm sure that will calm here down."
"Well, whether that was such a good idea of your father, to leave you back with the nut case," grumbled the Terrier, as Mrs. Fox was generally called.
"Have a nice Sunday, Mrs. Fox." said Paul and closed the door in front of her nose. In the large mirror in the passage, he now saw the whole mess. Ludmilla must have ripped his shirt at the back, torn her sharp fingernails into his shoulder and left a severely bleeding mark.
'How to explain that to my parents? Oh God, how do I do that?  The blackberry bush. I just tell them, we plaid a game of badminton and the ball went into the blackberry bush. By getting it out, I hurt myself. That is it. Clever.' Paul thought proudly. He tore the shirt down and stormed into the living room.  Ludmilla lay on the Persian rug, still totally naked, rolled up like a cat and slept.
'Like a painting,' Paul thought.

Like a painting. The picture, of the exhausted, sleeping woman, should accompany him his whole life long. He never ever was able to take his eyes off a sleeping woman. He rather stayed awake, than miss this wonderful sight. Whether the parents ever had believed his story of the blackberry bush, he never knew. However, what he found out later, when he was around thirty years of age, was the simple fact, that his father had used him, that specific Sunday, as a human test person. The Mr. Psychiatrist simply used his thirteen-year-old son, to find out, if and how nymphomaniac his patient was.  That he thereby, quasi as an unwelcome side effect, also found out, that his son had become a man, that did not hinder him, to start his own, personal, little affair with the patient, shortly after this remarkable Sunday. 

CHAPTER 2

"Liver - you are a fraud. A rotten bag.  A plague.  Get up that rope instantly, or I'll lengthen your ears to spoons."

Paul stood in line with his classmates. They all were sweaty, only Paul was not.  He was freed from certain physical exercises in Sports, since his heavy decline at a downhill event in Kitzbühel.  Since Paul had conquered the mysteries of his father's EEG, he could manipulate, through simply moving a finger during the test, the shown results into a full-blown concussion.  His great father, with the magic hood, had not realized that and wrote in his report, to determine Paul, for a couple of months, from troublesome exercises. Only Mr. Szabo, the former fighter pilot from Hungary, did not want to accept that.
"I, as your Sports teacher, know what is good for you!"  grumbled Szabo on. "Move it. Up the rope. Hela Hopp!"
Paul remained stubborn.  
"You know, that due to a sport injure," he put the emphasis especially on the word sport,  "I am, at the time, not allowed to participate in certain exercises of the curriculum.  Those exercises do include climbing ropes, since, to my modest opinion, I could become weak and fall - most likely on my head.  We do not want that, do we, Mr. Professor Szabo!?"
The whole class began to cackle and Paul felt splendidly.  
"Quiet!" roared Szabo.  He set himself up in front of Paul, letting him feel the power of his whole height, of almost two meters and started screaming. His face turned purple, as he totally lost control.  
"On the rope, Liver!"
Paul grinned maliciously and said: "Up."
"What?"
"Up.  Up the rope, Mr. Professor Szabo."
"Want you to teach me now German language, which I since forty years fluently speak?"
"Which I speak," grinned Paul.
"What?"
"The German language, which I speak fluently since fifteen years, Mr. Professor Szabo."  
Again, Paul had overemphasized some words.  The teacher now almost turned blue and was hardly able to breathe. He gasped, opened his mouth in fury anger, but before he could say a word, Paul said nice, calm and softly:
"I request you not to scream, Mr. Professor.  You know - my head injury."

Clash and clash. 

The echo blew away in the training hall. It was dead silent. All pupils stood as tightly as never before.
"You have hit me."
"You have hit me first, Mr. Professor and I have a pretty distinctive and well developed reflex, Mr. Professor."
"Shut up!"  choked the teacher. "Has hit he me. The whole class sees it.  Meyer. Class speaker!  Have seen you it?" 
His German now was the language of a little child.

After an almost endless pause came a pitiful  "Yes, Mr. Professor." from the chief boot licker Meyer.  His father was the head master at the Girls Inner City High and Paul had sworn to himself, to protect the girls from Meyer-son.  No human being had earned so much misfortune and definitely no girl.  
"Meyer, he has hit me first.  It was my reflex, not his. Whole class, one after the other.  Has Liver hit me, or not? Start from the back."
And whether one believes it or not, even Gerhard, Paul's only friend in the School, said cowardly:  "Yes."
That was it. All over. Paul thought about murder.  At this moment, he would have loved to line up the whole class, including Mr. Szabo, against the wall and execute all of them under martial law.  
"Your are the last dirt. Gerhard.  He hit me first!"  roared Paul.  But friend Gerhard looked only to the floor and Mr. Professor said, dangerously calm now:
"Well.  Liver - then we finally got, what we wanted. Didn't we? Now you can become Street-cleaner. Nice profession, for garbage like you."

The intermission bell rang and the exercise hall was empty, faster than one could look. Professor Szabo left, high chinned and said carelessly:
"Must see the head master. Meyer, make sure that we have order here."
Paul stood, for a long time, at one of the large windows of the hall and stared at the northern mountain chain. He felt secluded, left alone, cheated and distracted.  
'He hit me first.' he thought repeatedly. 'Why are they so mean?'  
However, there was no answer. Of course, his classmates laughed about his sarcastic remarks during instructions. They enjoyed his discussions with the Latin - and German teacher, Professor Girsten.  Paul took any chance, to get into one of those battles. He enjoyed those rallies.  After a free essay test, it was always Paul, who had to step forward and read his story to the class. Well, he really wrote good stuff, even then. His classmates only understood half of that, what he wrote, but still. 
'All over,' Paul. thought. 'Now it is all over. I am barely sixteen and already a failed existence.'
He finally decided to change into his normal cloths, packed up his few belongings and left the School. Paul never returned to this, or any other State School. Paul had decided to tell his parents the truth. No evasions, no extenuation.  Simply like it really happened. He even told his parents, that he had provoked the teacher.  To his great surprise and for the first time, since he was able to think, his parents believed him. All the sudden, everything moved very quickly.  Paul was suspended from the School.  His further education, to gain a high School graduate, could be only completed in a Boarding School.  Paul fought against this possibility like a bull.  He did not want to go to School any more. His parents had him tested.  At those tests, again and again, it was made clear, that he should go into something artistic. Bookseller, journalist - surely also Theatre.  Or musician? Paul had been playing the cello for eight years at this time. Only, because his father aged forty, all the sudden had the urge, to learn cello himself. Paul did not play very well.  Since two years, he played in the City Orchestra - only his teacher knew, how badly his performance was. He hated the orchestra.  He hated the cello. He did not get anything out of it, even no fun. That was an instrument, which one had to exercise on.  However, Paul wanted to live - not exercise something, he did not want to do in his life. He wanted to be free. Finally, be free.  Go to the whores. Run after female medical students. He wanted to go. Away.  Away from the city, from the country. The best choice would be Australia.  Never again snow.  For too long the father had forced the children, to cross country up the mountains, underneath all the lucky people, who were allowed to take the ski lifts. Fitness training that was called. Paul was convinced that his father was only too stingy for the lift fairs. The great Mr. Psychiatrist, who always ran around with bundles of hundred Schilling notes in his wallet, was too stingy, to shout his children a ticket for the ski lift. Although, his father's habit, of carrying so much money, was quite pleasant for Paul.  The father always shaved at the breakfast table and thereby read the daily newspaper. Paul always was in need of some extra cash for one of his dreams and so  'borrowed', quite often, a couple of bills from father's wallet. His father always left his jacket hanging in front of the parents' bedroom. Great and very handy for Paul. And since Ludmilla had taught him to smoke, he needed even more of the handy bills. And the many Theatre books, Art Magazines.  Although, he had developed a unique way, of transporting books and magazines unpaid out of the bookshops, he still paid, at least for one item, at the cashier. He knew, that this was called shop lifting - but his hunger for knowledge, for information, was much bigger, than the pitiful pocket money, the Liver children got from their father.  

The doctor, with the magic hood, fought like a lion for the rights of his son.  However, he lost. Perhaps, if he would have practiced a little earlier, to fight for his second son, he might have had a little more experience with it. At least he tried and lost. 

Within a very short time, Paul experienced his second, big surprise with the parents. Almost resigned, his father one Sunday sat at the breakfast table and murmured:
"I have those two patients. One had a stroke and is the managing director of the State Theatre in Innsbruck. The other one owns the largest bookstore in the city.  I would like, that you start an apprentizip as a librarian at his shop."
"I would prefer the Theatre." tried Paul.  
"In that case, I'll talk to Mr. Hummel tomorrow."
End of the discussion. Paul wanted to say thank you, but his fathers' thoughts all ready had drifted away. Their relationship was extremely tense. At the least since the time, when the father had beaten him up with ropes and straps, just because Paul had cut off a piece from a long rope, which was lying around at the building site, opposite their house. He needed the rope for a lasso, since for once he was allowed to be the Cowboy in the children's games and not just the Red Indian, who mostly was tied up against a tree. Thief and gangster, his father had called him then. That his mothers' loose nerves often led her to slapping Paul across the face, Paul did not mind. He usually was much faster then her anyhow and able to duck underneath her swings and run away. He even did not hold it against his mother. She had six children and no time for them. So what? On the other hand, he always thought, they do not want me here anyhow. So, why not simply stay away?
But in his secret little book, which he had started during his year in boarding School, he wrote:

Tyrol 24.12.69:
Get out of my way, or I will beat you up, so that you will never find your own way. 

Paul began, as a volunteer, in the Theatre of Innsbruck.  He sat in the Box Office, worked in the make up department, did Stage management, was allowed to help out as a directors assistant, ended up in the dramaturgical department and wrote his first, own program book for a Russian play by Gogol.  A furious program for a sixteen year old. On the side, he took private acting lessons, loved a medical student, which ended in disaster, after his father found out her address and picked him up one afternoon, to return him home. His mother was waiting at the door at home and only said softly:
"So, now go and take a shower. One does that, after behaving like a pig. Hannes, has she given you my rose?"

Paul had snatched his mother's golden rose from her jewelry box. He deliberately had taken the only gem, which he had never seen his mother wearing once. Just now she wanted to show off the damned thing at a Theatre and had realized the loss.
"Eieieiei". his father said. "The rose. I totally forgot. I'll drive back, immediately and get it."
And he did get it, not only the rose, but the medical student too. Poor mother, poor father. Their latest attempt, to save their marriage, was already four years old and called Anderl. The latecomer.  With Anderl, the parents had fulfilled this insane dream, of having six children. Paul simply was unable to understand, why his, twelve years younger, brother was necessary. Now he did.  From what he knew about Theatre by now, he finally started to understand his parents need for biblical tragedy and Greek drama in their life. He left the Theatre in Innsbruck and moved on to Munich. He had, secretly, attended an audition for an acting job at the Munich Youth Theatre and at the same time passed his test to attend one of Germany's best acting schools. He left. Munich.  Foreign countries.  Away from the mountains - the Northern Mountain Chain finally in his back. Finally, no more rock.  Finally, free views to a new horizon. Freedom here I come.
 


Chapter 3

For Paul, the first eight years of his acting career passed by like a hurricane. He was barely seventeen, when he arrived in Munich.  As a free adult, he arrived there. The devastated Mr. Psychiatrist angrily had him written out of law, because Paul had intentionally failed his audition for the famous Reinhard Acting Seminar in Vienna, just to make sure, that Munich was the only place for him to go to. For this impudence, the father set him free. 'Discharge from the paternal power' the official document, sensitively, was called in Austria. For a, even not seventeen year old, young man, this was a victory of great importance, since the official maturing age in those days was still twenty one. 

"In two months time, you will be an alcoholic and gay!" were his fathers famous last words, when Paul left home for good. This proof of faith and four hundred Deutschmarks was all the father gave Paul along on his way. The money was meant to bring him through the first month in Munich. Paul spent his allowance, within two days, with the whores and was cured of seeking love from prostitutes instantly. He had arrived in Munich on the first of September in '69. A tired taxi driver showed him the way to the Red Light District of Munich. It did not take long, until he was picked up by one of the girls. He was utterly nervous and so he tried to hide this condition, by being polite and utterly witty. 
"Finally with the whores - wonderful!" he said, when the girl told him to undress. He lay on a, pretty shaggy, bed and when the girl sat upon him, he said foolishly:
"I am the collection of your dreams."
"Bullshit. You only collect yourself," said the hooker and did her job. 

When Paul went back, to the Red Light District, the very next day, he only could find a very sad and, in the dim light of her poor quarters, pretty ugly looking woman. He did not speak this time. It was all over after ten minutes. Paul felt rotten and cheap. He went back to his uncles' house, where he was meant to stay, until he had found himself an own flat, took a thorough shower and never ever went back to the whores on the streets again. He told his uncle, that one had stolen his money in the subway. Strangely enough, his uncle believed him and gave him the money he needed for the rest of his first month in Munich.

Munich - his heaven, his spirit, his playground. Often Paul sat with the established actors from the Munich theatres and discussed through the nights. Once, after an important premiere, he ended up on a table, where almost every single important household name amongst the Munich actors had gathered around. An unforgettable evening. Once he obviously had stared far too long at Therese Giese, the Grand Dame of political Theatre in Germany. She turned around to him and barked in, her deep, famous voice: 
"Lad! Do not stare like this. Be a man!"
"I am a man." Paul said, deeply surprised. 
"Then don't stare like a boy!" she grumbled, stuck out her tongue at him and turned back to the critic, she was talking to. 
"Never look back. There you only see the mistakes of tomorrow." whispered Walter Schmiedinger into his ear, while rubbing his knee against Paul's and the grand master of speaking, Romuald Pekney, rolled his R's:
"Culture is called speaking. Like Oskar Werner. When does he merely die."
When Paul once had to go for the Boys room, one of his acting teachers, Klaus Löwitsch, the villain of German Film, shouted after him:
"The feeling sits in the Ars, Liver!"
But Paul's mentor, the ever lasting Kurt Weinzirl, roared in his broadest Tyrolian accent: 
"To be from Tyrol makes you human, not to be from Tyrol makes you an Arshole. As a Tyrolian you'll survive the Brandauer Baby for centuries."
"Be tender to me, Kurti. Otherwise you'll never be anything." snapped Klaus Maria Brandauer, who had had a great, personal success this night, with his interpretations of Petruccio. They all were very happy this evening and very drunk too. So even Maria Nicklisch, the aging Star of the Kammerspiele, put her arms around Paul and chirped: "Love, young man, simply do love - love." 
The thrillingly erotic Erika Pluhar, at one stage pulled up Paul from the table and dragged him to the very back of the restaurant, took his head in both hands and purred:
"Passion - more - still more! And now do calm down again." 

Paul felt like in seventh heaven. He could not believe his luck, to be allowed to be together with all those wonderful actors and they even took him seriously enough, to talk to him. An other one of his teachers, the marvelous Stefan Wigger from Berlin, took him aside and lectured: 
"Do remember one thing. I am a giant and you are a dwarf. So I make myself small and you make yourself tall. If it works out we will be equally big on stage. It's called respect for each other."
Paul, in this moment, was only able to think: 'That's it! I've made it.'
But then, the only guest at the big table, who seemingly did not get drunk at all, in spite the quantity of white wine he had pored into himself throughout the evening, decided to be the first to leave. August Everding, the director of the Munich Kammerspiele, went professionally through kissing and hugging and then stopped at Paul, looked deeply into his eyes, put on his famous sinister smile and ruined Paul's evening:
"Boy! Whistling in the Theatre. Only the dupes concede errors!" 
He waved a last Good-bye and was gone and with him Paul's high. Paul had once booed Cleverding, how he was called throughout the whole industry, for a not very well received production he had directed. Cleverding must have had spotted Paul on the Gallery and took advantage of it now. Paul was shattered. Devastated. Nevertheless, Christine Ostermeier, for Paul the incarnation of womanly tenderness, turned around to him and smiled.
"Smile. But never with your teeth. They only blind you, like they blinded Cleverding years ago, when he stopped looking into his own mirror. Just smile."
She smiled, blinked with her left eye and went back to the discussion with her Partner, Klaus Maria Brandauer, trying to explain to him, that she, as Katherine in Taming of the Shrew, was not his enemy, but his partner on stage. If he ever got it, nobody ever will know. It was very late already and at the end of the table Andre Heller, who had especially flown in from Vienna, to attend this important Premiere together with his then wife, Erika Pluhar, seemed to want to brake loose a domestic fight with his wife. 
"For a carpenter from Hamburg it is a custom to wear a perfect carpenter costume. For an Austrian, it is a custom, to wear a perfect costume of perfidy." he remarked sharply. He was well known for his sarcasm and Paul, strengthened through his previous encounter of the third kind with Mr. Heller's wife, in the back corner of the restaurant, dared to speak up.
"However. A Tyrolian takes pride in only one custom. A splendid form of corporal punishment for a costumed headless panicky."

The evening was over. Andre Heller did not have any humor left this evening, to go into a lengthy discussion with the young idiot on his table. He left abruptly, dragging his wife along. All the others, by now were much too drunk to speak, or even be able to move. So Paul found himself, suddenly all alone and very sober at the table. Only Maria Emo, the wonderful actress, he had adored in the last Premiere, of a new play from the DDR, at the Kammerspiele, sat at the other end, still quite with it and very alone too. 
"The moon has got a court around itself and I've got you." She, sweetly, sang a reminiscence of the song, which she sang so beautifully in the show. Paul moved up to her and there they sat, for an other couple of hours, talked, laughed, discussed and finally got very tender with each other. Around four o clock a.m. they left the restaurant. Together. Late in the afternoon, they woke up. Together. Heaven. 

Paul was very proud of himself, to become the only actor in Munich, who did not drink any liquor. He also was proud, to be absolutely heterosexual. No experiment.  No drugs, no dope. Only cigarettes and orange juice.  His first years were a dream for him.  He was witty, talented and many people liked him. They obviously thought, he was quite interesting for such a young man. Well, he was very young, to be all alone in a sizzling city like Munich and therefor, for all the Theatre snobs, a welcomed feast. He fell in love with the daughter of a seafood dealer from Hamburg and chased around with her for four years. When he wanted to separate from her, she made an attempt of suicide, in his mother's bed. His mother had been divorced from Mr. Liver in the mean time. The fish mongers daughter had committed herself to two abortions throughout her relationship with Paul. Against Paul's will. He then thought, a child would bring a special bond to their relationship and it might be easier, to keep her on by his side. After the first abortion, which she had done in Yugoslavia, he only said to her:
"Don't take the sun away without asking."
His girl friend did not understand and went back to Yugoslavia one year later, to make her mistake once again. Paul's mother convinced him, to not feel guilty about his girl friends attempted suicide. So he sat by her bedside and only was able to say:
"When I left you, I found myself. Now I miss you."
Again, the battered girl did not understand. But, Paul had to leave her and go his own ways. When he returned home from the hospital this evening, his mother told him, to write down his thoughts and feelings, to not let them overwhelm him. But Paul did not want to write. He wanted to talk. Ask questions. His mother was much to busy with her own problems and so he walked out, into the dark garden. It was a mild late August night in '73 - very clear and high skies - one could see the mountains against the firmament. Paul looked at the Bettelwurf - the mountain, which kept so many dark secrets of Paul's past. But, in this bright summer night, the stony face of the mountain seemed to smile at Paul, like a wise, old man. Paul lent against the Cherry tree and let his thoughts float back, to the long lost summer afternoon, when Ludmilla showed him life. He could not take away his eyes from the mountain and so he started to speak to it. 
"You have seen a lot of me, my friend. If you could speak, I would have to be scared. However, you cannot speak, so take my secrets and shut up! In the hospital lies a person - totally pumped out - recently she was feminine - now she is reduced to an It! Sometimes one dies - dies over love. And on the grave, we plant a compassionate smile. This time is against love. But love is time. We are afraid of that. Especially after the tragically event during the Olympic Games in Munich."

Paul had taken on an acting part in a play, which was performed right outside the Olympic stadium in Munich, during the games. When the fatal terrorist attack struck, not only the nation, but the whole world, he and his fellow actors and lots of audience camped out at the Olympic field, in order to be near the Israeli team and to support them, with Sit Ins and prayers. 
"Terror. And no one weeps. Come on let us go to Siberia, where our kisses freeze between our lips. That is what I said to the woman in the hospital then. But she went back to Yugoslavia and I fled to Sweden. There I searched for the famous Swedish girls. But they were all on vacation, on the Teutonic grill in Spain. When do they come back, I asked the lonely reindeers in the vast Swedish woods. When you start thinking of them as women and not Swedes - the reindeers replied. It is called, learning it the hard way. Terror. And no one weeps."

The huge mountain still looked like smiling and did not say a word. So Paul stood there, for a long time and cried. Later he found out, that his mother was waiting on the terrace, to hear him cry. To help him. But he only cried quietly, deep inside. So she thought he was all right. 

After this first relationship with a woman, Paul pushed himself like a maniac from place to place. He seemed not to be able to relax.  He constantly was on the move, restless and breathless. After his Munich years, he took on an engagement as an actor in Wuppertal. When he arrived in this strange, narrow city, he got a little frightened. He once was asked, to write down his thoughts about the town, for the Theatre newspaper. All the new Cast members were introduced like this to the local audience and the editor in charge wanted to be very special that year. 

Wuppertal January 1973
The house is overwhelming  - it is so functional.
It makes you frightened and bow deeply.
Foreign sounds paint a language into the air.
Noble simplicity in the alleys.
Foreign - as if forbidden here - you get stared at.
Secret glances look for - no finding.
Thousand empty hands do not grab.
They only hold their own heart in the hand.

When the paper came out, Paul had an instant telephone call from his Artistic Director. 
"Come to my office. Tomorrow, ten o clock a.m." was the short, but precise order. Paul was not afraid of this meeting. He had not done anything wrong, so he was quite calm, when he met his superior the next day. It was his first, serious talk with the most important person in the Theatre and after two hours of honest and intense discussion, Paul's position in the playhouse was redefined. He had the support and respect of his Artistic Director. 

He played Dr. Faustus, Hamlet and all the wonderful parts an actor only can dream off. He played those parts - much too young, much too eager, much too wild and too excited.  He fell in love with two Australian dancers of the Pina Bausch Dance Theatre. Simultaneously. He let a fellow actress, the burning Ruth, explain the passion of Jewish love to him. He slept in the Theatre, because his then girl friend was working as a striptease dancer, in a near by Bar. She first finished work at around 4 a.m.  Since Paul always took pride in never being late, no matter when he got to bed the previous night, he slept in the Theatre and was always on time. Once, he persuaded his Artistic Director, to accompany him on a visit to the Bar. Since that night, they were friends. Arno, his director, told him, with beaming eyes, about his big love, the isle of Sylt. Famous for her nude beaches. It was after that evening that Paul was handed over the key to the playhouse, to not be late, just because he was in love with a Stripper. 
"The Artistic Director - he dreams with gleaming eyes of Sylt, but gives me the keys to the Play House. My Sylt." Paul had written down, after that remarkable night. 
Once, the owner of the Strip bar asked him, to write a little poem for the VIP wall. Not that Paul was a VIP. Nevertheless, the owner knew about Paul's affair with her Star Stripper. Normally, Paul would not have been allowed to visit the bar, since the girls were not allowed to have closer contact to guests. But since Paul had brought along one of the most important celebrities of the city, they thought of Paul more as a good, dear friend, than a paying guest. For the wall he wrote:

In the Chambre Séparée, one smooches on his solitariness.
On stage, Lady Caroline drops the last wrappings.  
But not herself.
They all covet the queen of the night.
But she has fallen in love with Tyrol.

Many guests, who read the note on the VIP wall, often asked his Lady Caroline, what it was all about. But Lady Caroline was a very discrete stripper and very much in love with Paul at that time. She kept the secret and kept her paying guests in unknowing agony. Often he sat in front of his orange juice and thought: 'I am a happy man!'

After two years, once again it was time for Paul, to move on. He left Wuppertal and made a big mistake. He took on an engagement in Switzerland. Crossing borders again. However, this time into the wrong direction. In Basle, he then almost was threatened to become isolated. There was only a tiny waitress, who he wanted to impress. The two daughters of a big Pharmaceutical Company owner, who tried to impress Paul, they both were much too ugly for Paul's taste. The Artistic Director disliked Paul from the first moment. Paul never found out why. He took up a membership in the nearby fitness club of the Inter Conti Hotel. He knew that his director was swimming there every morning. And so, the two of them swam, beside each other, almost every day, for one whole, long year. Silent. Harsh. Grim. Never one word. Pure hatred. Paul's waitress asked him one day, to describe his feelings for Basle to her. They were lying on Paul's bed, in the little Hotel room Paul had rented for the time he was staying in Basle. Paul lit a cigarette, gave the question a short thought and said: 
"Basle? Every evening I paint a smile into my face. I cover the mourning of my eyes with glitter. For three happy hours, I am two. Around midnight, once again, my smile is sadly hanging on my dressing room wall."
"I don't understand that," the waitress said.
"Look. When you're only surrounded by people like my director."
"Hans Hollmann?"
"You know him?" asked Paul in surprise. His waitress had not struck him, as being very interested in the theatrical scene of Basle. 
"Sure. He often has a coffee at our restaurant. He always stares at me. A strange man."
"Hans Hollmann. Excess. The crystal glasses reflect wine faces. From liquor distorted, lifeless from tears. However, they laugh - laugh even more and laugh, until the spring is here."
"Is this something from the new play you are rehearsing?" asked the waitress. 
"No. I just made it up now."
"It's unbelievable, how you do that. I never could do that."
"Then don't!" said Paul dryly and put out his cigarette, closed his eyes, lay there in the little Hotel room, surrounded by his books, a warm body and his thousand thoughts. 
"I luv you" whispered the waitress and this little sentence was the only mistake, she ever made in their entire relationship. When Paul heard her say those three words, in her broad Swiss dialect, all his feelings for her left him instantly. He literally dumped the poor girl the next morning. He was unable to explain why. He just could not bear the poor girl's presence any longer. He was cruel, ruthless, brutal and mean. He acted like one of the coldest characters ever having been created for a play. Years later, he first was able to understand, what had happened. When the cute, little Swiss girl spoke out her feelings in her dialect, Paul got scared, that he never would be able to introduce this girl to his parents. They just would not accept his choice. Therefore, he dumped her - instead of his parents. 

At the end of the season in Basle, Paul took his summer vacation in his house in the Tuscany. He had rented this gorgeous, old cottage, together with a friend from Basle, on a yearly base. He loved the Tuscany - probably mostly because he was so disgusted, for what the famous Goethe had written in his "Italian Journey" about this wonderful part of Italy. Paul was exhausted from the season in Basle and just wanted to be alone, with his friend Rudy, have good food, lots of Chianti and Grappa. Paul had had his first zip of alcohol in Basle. He had to drink Pernod on stage, a drink, which cannot be faked. So Paul learned to drink it. After his first glass, he thought that the whole left side of his face was paralyzed. He did not drink much - but he did, because he had to and hated it, since it was totally against his principals. But the spell was broken and the memory of his fathers' famous last words was far away. 

Hang around the Campo in Sienna and do nothing. That was Paul's only goal for this summer. He had long and calm discussions with his friend. Once, they were sitting out on the Loccanda of their house, sipping away some Grappas and Espressos, after a delicious chicken a la orange, Paul said, out of no reason: 
"I have normalized my hopes."
"No one can crawl out of his skin," said Rudy. 
"Inside my skin I am only alone."
"That's good enough." Smiled Rudy. 
"Now I do hope, that my hopes can live." Said Paul, sadly drunk. 
"Hope means to trust." tried Rudy to cheer him up. 
"And that's where deceit starts!" barked Paul. 
For a long time, the two of them sat very quietly.
"Speaking of deceit." Rudy said, taking a deep zip of his Grappa. "I am gay."
Paul, who just wanted to refill his glass, stopped stunned in his motion. The Grappa bottle was hanging dangerously over his glass. Paul stared at Rudy. Rudy was about ten years older than Paul was. He was in filmmaking and the calmest, nicest person Paul had ever met. But gay? Paul started laughing. 
"What are you laughing about?" asked Rudy. 
"I just had this crazy thought. Almost ten years ago, when I left home for good, my father said to me, I'll be an Alcoholic and gay in no longer then two months. Now look at me. Grappa and my best friend tells me, that he is gay."
"I did not say that I am in love with you." answered Rudy. 
"Are you sure?"
"Sure of what? Of being gay, or being in love with you?"
"Both."
"Are you sure?" Rudy's voice had a strange edge around it.
"You know, that is a very good questions. But: Inside of me is hanging a box, made of glass. Therein sit two parrots. In front of the box kneels a cat  - a rose is increasing from its chest. The cat speaks Hungarian with the female bird - which transmits it in Chinese to the mail - which tells me the story - as the fairy tale of my soul."
"You are totally pissed," said Rudy dryly. 
"You remember that day in Sienna? On the Campo? After that eighth Espresso and the twelfth Grappa, around two p.m., a dog stumbled, with sad eyes, over the gray cobblestones. It fluctuated and fell. In the second of its death I embraced him with my dying eyes." said Paul, finally filling his glass.  They sat under the glorious dome of stars for a while and smiled at each other.
"Cheers." said Paul and they emptied their glasses in one go. 
"So what? Are you sure?"
"Yes." said Rudy quietly. "I am gay and in love with you."
"Does a No from me end our friendship?" asked Paul, suddenly very sober and interested. 
"Never."
Rudy got up and walked away from the veranda, out into the dark night. 

Years later, they had to give up their little getaway in the Tuscany. The old lady, who owned the premises, had finally died and her heart-asthmatic, rigid son wanted a much too high price for the house, when Rudy and Paul negotiated to buy it. Their friendship was then still very strong. But since that night in July 1976, they treated each other with respect, but never again with the warmth and emotion, which had once drawn them to each other.  


CHAPTER FOUR
 
After this summer in the Tuscany, Paul stranded in Fribourg, this little dream city at the edge of the Black Forrest, and his true life began.  In Fribourg, he all the sudden was allowed to do, what ever he wanted to try out his beloved profession. Theatrically. He was appointed as one of the Artistic Directors of the International Fribourg Theatre Festival, worked as a Dramaturgy for musical Theatre and ballet, acted and his first plays were publicly performed. He found the one big friend for life and a second one, as a gift on top of it all. Vernon, the American, a musical director, who wrote songs for Paul's literary revues and accompanied him at hundreds of performances. Yes, Vernon should accompany him from now on, not only on stage, but also in real life. The other one, Perdi, twenty years Paul's senior and a big, smash stage setter, saw in the young savage a welcomed, second chance, to once again renew his own creativity. Perdi and Paul, the uncommon team, they became friends, worked on over fifty Productions with each other.  Argued, hated themselves and each other, separated and came together again.  The only real quality Paul always had, was the ability, to forget very quickly, just to be able to pardon everything and go back to normal procedures, as if nothing ever had happened. What was interesting yesterday was no more interesting today. He called himself the last utopian, the partisan of hope, the lonesome fighter for the dreams.  That both friends betrayed him and sold him off, when they thought, it was not so harmful, he never held against them. Many people in his surroundings were unable to now or ever to understand that. Yes, Paul had a large heart, with lots of room for forgiveness.  He just never showed it to anybody.        

On the first day, of his engagement in Fribourg, Paul was rather excited.  Butterflies. He knew, now something enormous was going to happen. Something out of proportions. In Basle, he could hardly bare the darkness. He often stormed, in search of light, through the night, in direction Tuscany.  In Fribourg, it would be different.          He opened the stage door and noticed, that somebody else had arrived behind him. Paul had always been a meticulously polite person.  The six children often sat at the dining table, with books on their heads and under the arms, to learn how to eat mannerly. Paul and Babs, the two cockroaches, in addition, frequently had to kneel on logs, in the dark cellar.  Thereby the two of them had sworn to each other:
"When we are more mature than the parents are, then we never will kneel again.  We will not make our backs crooked, we won't bend and never shall bow deeply enough, to see right into an Arshole."
Like a secret oath they prayed those lines, over and over again. Paul turned around and was blinded. Behind him stood a creature from another world.  Paul kept the door open for the vision and let the girl, the woman, the lady, the Prima Ballerina, the queen, the goddess herself, pass bye into the Theatre. It was shortly before ten a.m.!  Many colleagues arrived at the same time, to not miss the virgin speech of their new Artistic Director and Paul stood and stopped them the door.  He did not notice it.  His eyes still only saw this vision from another world. She had endlessly long, coppertoned hair, shamelessly high legs, green eyes, one finely pointed nose, wonderfully curled eyelashes and cute breasts.
"Are you our new usher, Paul?"
Paul jerked. He still could not always master this reaction, although he meanwhile knew, where from he hat adopted this stupid manner. On a trip to Venice, his father wanted a picture of Paul, at the Square of San Marco with all the "marvelous" pigeons. To make the snap shot even more "spectacular", he put some pigeons on the poor lads had. The pigeons were caught in Paul's hair, panicked and fluttered around like mad. Paul had forgotten the incident.  But since then, he crouched at each deeply flying bird, fast falling shadows and if suddenly addressed from behind, in sudden fear. Hans, the man, who freed Paul from Basle, by offering him a new engagement in Fribourg, stood smiling in front of him and did not seem to wonder at all. 
"No, no," said Paul. " I just have seen a miracle."
"In which form?" asked Hans.  He always thought very analytically.  Finally he was the Chefdramaturgy of the Theatre and had to have some more gray cells, than everyone else. 
"In feminine form."
"Well, well! That must have been Mrs. Lincoln, our principal dancer. Come on, we're late."
They both immediately went to the auditorium. The ensemble and the technical staff were gathered, almost completely and in a Theatre, the size of Fribourg that equals easily over three hundred and fifty people. The auditorium was brightly illuminated and Paul examined his new colleagues thoroughly, actually only, to find his vision amongst them.  However, the Ballet Company had gathered on the balcony and was not visible from the stalls.

Paul had rented a small Bachelor flat outside of Fribourg.  It was really an inn, with connected apartments.  In Eagles Fort, which the place was called, a little over the top, Paul met Vernon for the first time. Vernon had taken one of the other available flats there and wondered into the lounge, just after Paul had finished his first Fribourg lunch. Vernon did not hesitate very long, to sit down besides Paul at the large, round table. 
"Hi, my name is Vernon. I have seen you in the Theatre. I am one of the new musical directors there. Lets be friends."
"I am Paul Liver.  Actor.  Friendships must be earned."  
 "Oh, an intelligent actor. How fresh," answered Vernon, in his broken German. 
"There are no unintelligent actors. Stupid singers, yes." reported Paul.  And so developed a, extremely intense, conversation about God and the world, about Theatre and its sense and purpose, about philosophy, Vernon's favorite theme, about poetry, Paul's strong field and about women.
"I am still BI," said Vernon.
"Ouch!" answered Paul. "I am not into that at all."
"Have you tried it?"
"I do not think, that this is on my agenda. I am completely normal."  
"Normal?"
"Yes, normal. Both my parents are psychologists. My father is a psychiatrists and neurologist and my mother a family therapist. Their profession has of course never helped either of them, to get a grip on their own family. But, strangely enough, they unite themselves in one big issue: Everything, which is not clearly and defined Heterosexual, is not normal.  As our friend Freud already used to say: The loss of shame is the first indication of feeble mindlessness.  Full stop."
"Well, then I suppose, I must be pretty idiotic in your parents book, for I find you simply sweet."  Vernon sighed and emptied his glass in one go.
"You'll survive it." teased Paul. "But something much more important. Don't you play for the ballet? They've got some Lincoln there. You know her?"
"You want to get to know Anne?  I can invite her, for dinner tomorrow and you can show up, just by chance. I do it from one Buddy to another."
"If you manage that, it would be gigantic."

So Paul got to know his future love and wife, at the second day of his new engagement. Paul courted Anne Lincoln with the imagination of the addicted. Anne had just overcome a four-year long relationship with a Swedish tenor. The Swede fell in love with a Spanish colleague of Anne's and danced with her the Flamenco, at the wrong time.  Anne had been with her parents in Sydney over the summer, to recover from the useless loss. It was understandable, that Anne, at this various time, did not want to get involved with anyone at all. No relationship, no friendship, simply nothing.  However, Paul did not let go and daily conceived new methods of beckoning. He had to conquer, win, and defeat this Ms. Lincoln. Forever. And if it cost what ever. 

Paul rather quickly became a household name in Fribourg.  Soon, after his arrival, he made so much wind with his literary programs and his parts on stage, that one could hardly overlook him. The main critic of the local paper called him "The multifunctional weapon." Paul was pleased about that brand name and felt very proud. Some time, after a, for Paul, endlessly long time, after two months, he decided to try one, very final, last attempt. He wrote, for the first time in his life, a love letter, to the answer of his dreams. The envelope had only her name on and a few lines inside:
Fribourg 27 August 1976:
He saw her. She saw him. Both thought - never. 
And God laughed.
P.L.

Paul handed this little token to Anne, on the evening of the latest Ballet opening. Anne had had a remarkable success with her interpretation of Bolero and was therefor quite happy and relaxed. For Paul, that seemed to be the only one and right moment. He, almost carelessly, dropped the letter at her table and dismissed himself from the party.  In that night, Paul's doorbell rang around four-o clock in the morning. Paul was still awake, he could not sleep and had decided to work on a new play, instead of running wild, like a caught tiger. He thought, it would be Vernon, who probably was unable to find his own keys, because he was so drunk or stoned, or both at the same time. Paul opened the door, ready to let loose some sharp remarks and first closed it again sixteen years later.

When Anne and Paul married in Sydney, Paul instinctively knew that he had made a fatal mistake.  Shortly before the wedding, he felt himself drawn to the wife of a musician friend of the Lincoln family. He dearly loved Anne and could not understand his longing.  When he looked through his notes, after sixteen years of marriage, the birth of two wonderful daughters, whom to have Anne first decided after ten years of marriage, after almost nine months of devastating migrant fate in Australia and return to Good Old Europe, when he then examined those sixteen years, he, for the first time, saw much clearer. These sixteen years were his prime time. Paul filmed with Barbara Carrera in Fiji and learned from her the art of Method Kissing.  Two times to the right, two times two the left with the tongue, then circle, retard and tickle only the tips, once sucking on fervently, bite in the lower lip and withdraw completely slowly, so that, in the back light, the saliva can be shown off beautifully to its best advantage. Mrs. Carrera wanted to rehearse this with Paul in her Cabana in Fiji. But he simply told her, he would rather do it the good, old European Method.  With feeling.  Barbara Carrera - with lethal tempo and Method. Beware of falling nuts.  Paul had wanted to leave from Fiji after three days. The Garden Island, on which they were shooting, was simply to overturning beautiful.  Breathtaking.  Nothing for him.  And then, the Fijians.  Since centuries they stand sadly, every evening, in the emerald waters - man, woman, child, grandfather and great-grandson, great-grandmother and grand daughter - facing the east - not because the sun rises in the east, no, because it set there for the Fijians hundreds of years ago. The white Massas throne highly above the bays, in houses made from stone and with a view to die for. The Indians dwell, domestically, in nice wooden huts in the shadow of the palm trees. The Fijians themselves warp in glowing tin huts, in the middle of the disposal plants. One calls this obviously: fair justice.

Paul advanced in these years to a renowned author for plays.   He received awards for his works. The cars became bigger and bigger. Paul had never lost the contact to his Gretl.  Whenever he could, he visited the small village.  After the Australian disasters, the village had become home, harbor, save anchorage and recreation center. From the village Paul scooped his enormous strength and raged from Theatre to Theatre, from highway to highway.  He even became the Artistic Director of the first European Theme Park, the Smurfpark 'Big Bang Schtroumpf' in Metz and staged Wagners Ring in ninety minutes, with an all star Cast, recruited from the parks Smurfs.  Those were wonderful, mad summer nights. Paul produced at important theatres.   At the Viennese State Opera, he was as successful as in Zurich.  He remained monogamous for a long time, but the oyster opened itself unfortunately only hesitating.  As he came across his notes, after his family had taken off, without the father to protect them, to build a new home in Australia, he almost puked. 

Already, as he and his Anne got to know each other, in the first few weeks of their coexistence, he was annoyed of some of her habits.  He called it 'Impotent Zeitgeist" at a time, when the Media even had not discovered the slogan, which ruled a whole generation. Zeitgeist. Yuck. 
Often he screamed: "Switch off the Hover." when he could not bare Anne's, maniacally, cleaning up any longer. 
"Why?" she then always smiled sweetly.
"It devours my thoughts."
And Anne happily hovered on. 
"Put the flowers away.  My words seem so colorless beside
their splendor."
"Don't take yourself for so important." was always her laconic answer to these attacks. 
"Put everything away which can blackmail us. The attributes of time only drive us apart."
For hours they stood in their kitchen and discussed.  He dearly loved her for her efforts. Anne adored mirrors.           Especially in the bath.  Endlessly she stood in front of it, to make herself even more beautiful, than she was. Paul was sometimes jealous of the mirrors.  But instead of talking to her about his fears, he disguised them in aphorisms and finished a heated discussion, about the sense and nonsense of make up, with a Freudian slip:
"In the bath hangs an oversized crystal mirror. The time has made me so similarly to myself, that I make all the mirrors blind. All mirrors blind themselves for me. Time has made them too similar to me. Time has turned me into a mirror.  I can't recognize myself no more."
Anne had learned, a long time before, to not take such harangues seriously any longer. But as he wiped off her congratulations, when he was cast with the important part of Dr. Faustus, with one of his stupid key sentences, she became very angry for the first time. Anne had spent the whole day in the Theatre, defending him against the nasty and cruel little remarks from his envious colleagues and came home, just to tell him, how proud she was of him. But Paul just barked: 
"Theatre - the charade of jealousy."          
Anne, for almost one week, spoke no word with him. When Paul finally arrived, with a bouquet of flowers, a bottle of champagne and said:
"If you don't talk to me any more, after such a short relationship, we actually may as well marry immediately."  
Then even Anne had to laugh again.  For the summer, they had planned a journey to Sydney. Good Timing. They had been together for almost two years and it was time to get to know Anne's parents. Paul had never flown that far and had a very long time, during in-flight, to foster his sweet expectation. At the time, the two of them were very happy with each other. So they took their chance, to crown their feelings. They married. Far off from Tyrol. Only surrounded by people, who both of them really liked. Not in a stinking, European registrar's office, but under a young lemon tree, which, years later, turned out to be a grapefruit tree. A friend of Anne's, or better, her one and only old Australian love, had booked them the wedding sweet in a first class hotel near the harbor. When Paul, shortly before sunrise, was standing pitched at the huge Bay window, pale as a sheet and totally exhausted, from puking out the last poisoned oysters of the wedding buffet, the ascending sun showed the fear in his eyes. His newly wed wife lay exquisitely beautiful spread out, on the gigantic bed and slept like a newborn child, blissfully and alone.  Paul had spent the night on the toilet. It was not the liquor, but actually a fully blown fish poisoning. And, as the sun came up, he murmured, suppressed, over to the Harbor Bridge:  "Wedding night on the John. The oysters do not want to remain with me.  They locked themselves up for me - like the woman, right next to me, in the honeymoon bed."

A short time later, it was time for their return Flight to Germany. Lots of good wishes, but also relief on the faces of the dear, new relatives.  
"I love you, Mum."
" I love you too, Dear. All the best, my little favorite. Take care."
"You too, mum!"
"Be good to her, Mr. Liver."
"I will."
"No, you won't."
"Surely."
"Go!"

And Mr. Liver and Mrs. Lincoln flew back to Europe as husband and wife. Anne had kept her maiden name. Paul did not see any reason for her, to change her name to his family name. He knew for sure, that they were really married and that was quite enough for him. He never gave much to that mail chauvinistic attitude, of forcing the man's name on a woman. During a stop over in Singapore, Paul bought his Anne a watch.
"Oh Darling! Darling?"  was the only thing the happy bride said. 
"Yes", inquired Paul dryly.
"Darling - I love you."  Said Anne exuberantly.  
"Don't Darling me." growled Paul slightly annoyed. Up until then, Anne always had called him by his name.  Since Sydney there was suddenly this Darling.  He simply could not bare it. 
"What do you have against Darling?" asked Anne completely amazed.  
"My name is Paul."
"I know, Darling."
'Give love a name and she betrays you!' it shot through Paul's head. But he was fully and very hopelessly in love with her. In Fribourg, the routine of daily Theatre soon was back. The fist premiere of the new season was coming up. They both worked very hard.  At the evening of the opening night of Faust, Paul, out of sheer fear, almost wet his pants.   The role was gigantic and he felt uncertain. When his producer came into his dressing room, to wish him "brake your leg", he immediately observed, in which condition he had found Paul. 
"How do you feel, Paul?" asked the producer. 
Silence. Every body in the whole Theatre actually knew that it had not much sense to try to talk to Paul, when he did not want to talk. 
"Don't forget your smile, after you sold your soul," said the producer and went to the auditorium.
"Don't forget your smile." insulted Paul his mirrored reflection. "The smile of an idiot himself, shortly before he shits his pampers full. Just no one is allowed to witness it. Smile! A smile is experience.  Each gesture a recognition. Each step a mirror. He is happy, who sits, unrecognized, in the dark and does not have to confess, like we have to every evening. Of course, this is not a line from Faust, but at least from myself. I hate this profession."

When Paul was called a little later, for the beginning of the
Play, he still was not totally composed. As he waited at the stage manager's switchboard for his first appearance, he suddenly felt Anne's soft hand in the nape. His first appearance on stage was together with her. She played a wonderful dancer, who accompanied Dr. Faustus, his whole life long, like a guardian angel. She was so delightfully beautiful in the part and Paul hoped that a little of her beaming beauty would enlighten his own performance. She kissed him softly into his neck and whispered: "Play for me."

And Paul stepped smiling onto the stage.  Later, during the party, his producer only asked Paul, why he was smiling too early. Well, sometimes it is more important to smile when you can smile and not, when it is too late, thought Paul and celebrated his success. 
It was a wild and exciting time.  Paul and Anne traveled a lot. Repeatedly to Australia too. They worked very often with each other. Paul produced, Anne choreographed.  
Paul wrote, Anne read and criticized.  For Paul absolutely perfect.  The perfect Team.  But, there were still certain things in their lives, which Paul simply could not comprehend. Anne was always freezing. No matter how warm it was. Only in Sydney, it appeared that she was sufficiently warm. How often did he get her up, shortly before sunrise, only to pull his arm around her and to experience, together with her, yet an other sunrise.
"Look. The sun."
"I'm freezing."
"Look. It's glittering."
"I'm freeeezing!"

'The beloved eyes do not see.  They wander restlessly right through me. Find only a maze. Souls made of glass hover freely in space. They smash at the banks of my waiting. The loved eyes only see memories fainting.'
That was, what he wrote, without knowing, on the back of a Hotel bill. Surely, it had around twenty degrees below zero in Alaska at that time. But what kind of air, what kind of view, what kind of width over the endless snowfields of Alaska.  He had totally forgotten the scribbled notes and only discovered them again, when he had to sort the receipts for his tax return. He noticed that he evidently had begun to use bills and receipts very frequently and pretty absent minded as blotting pads.  His warming blanket had always been the miracle of earth.  For Anne, warmth was only to come from dunas. 
'Uncomprehendingly we discover the impotence of our neighbors.  We listen into the fountain. We wait for an echo, but only find ourselves, without reason or a cause. What was the reason? Where is the reason? Where is the bottom of the cause? Does one really have to first overthrow himself into the fountain, to come to the bottom of reason and cause?'

Many small notices, which he subsequently transferred into his small book.  Notices from the endless conversations with Anne, their kitchen tribunals, as they called them jokingly. Where he said things like: 
"Let me be your mirror just for once. My only chance, to be completely alone with you for two hours." 
From one of these conversations then once developed, for the first time in their whole relationship, a love night, like Paul had dreamed of since a long time. When he then, once again not able to sleep besides a loved, sleeping woman, stood by the door to the terrace, enjoying the sight of the sleeping woman, he said happily to the ascending sun:
"Two years after my night on the Lu, the oysters finally open up for me. Love pearls. I am the way.  I am the crossing.  I am the way out.  I am the way home.  I am the entrance.  I am the relation, I am the way home. I am the trespasser. I am the passage.  I will be the forgotten one. I am not the goal. I am the way."
When he whispered this credo into the bright, new morning, it was not clear to him, how close to the truth he had come with his words. For: If one is a clown, the people laugh. Even if one screams: The circus is burning! They laugh themselves dead - when one cries. 

In their restless life, it got edgy quite often. Paul never wanted his Anne to once work alone on a production, in a foreign city, at an unknown house, without him. He knew that he was not able to prevent this happening in the long run. One day, the time for challenge was there.  Anne went to Bremen, to work on an opera production with Paul's artistic mentor, his superior Arno, from Wuppertal.   Promptly she fell in love with the stage setter of the production and forgot entirely, who she was. At the opening night's party, she almost ate her new love alive, in front of the shocked party guests and - in front of Paul. She hung with this handsome man at the Bar and turned everyone - willingly or not, into voyeurs. She lost herself, in the awakening of long forgotten bliss. Paul drove back to Bielefeld, the city, where they then had taken residency. Alone, through a desolate blizzard. Game over. Six years after the dream wedding in Sydney everything was gone? Why did they have no children?  Why had he forced her, to always work with him?  Even more, after she could not dance any more. With thirty, she adopted the worst injury a dancer can suffer from. Diagnosis:  No cartilage left in both knees. She went through the agony of sixteen needles weekly.  Nothing helped. She was not able to dance any more, hardly thirty years old. She sat in a wheelchair, when her back gave in.  Hurt, pains, agony, even a dumb kidney, caused through Cortisone crystals from the knee injections. Paul thought: work - that will keep her on her feet. He now got the bill for his misjudgment. Perhaps also the bill for his own little fling. He had helped a singer once who had the cracks, because she could not emotionally fulfil her part.  He slipped, on the cunning banana peel of power.  As the producer, he was the most important man - not only professionally, but also and just and very emotionally. The power of manhood gently holds her hand underneath the sliding foot. He then had a short, furious affair with the singer.  He had sent Anne, for a better recovery, to Sydney. The affair was over on the night that Anne entered her plane to Australia. When he saw her leave, he instantly knew, I am nothing without her. Therefore, he finished the excursion on the banana peel instantly.

Anne moved out, first she went to friends in Fribourg. Paul locked all his doors, did not speak, not write, not read, not eat, and not drink. Until he fled. Like in previous years, he sought refuge in the Tuscany.  Off to Portofino.  In the late fall.  The Cammerata Romana exercised in the pavilion on the long promenade around the peninsula. Albinoni's Adagio. And he sat for hours, alone, on the promenade and listened. Portofino was swept empty around this time of the year. The loud stream of tourists had long gone. Room to breathe had come to the haunted, little city on the edge of the mountains and the sea. Just one, lonely Hotel was still running business. He was the only guest - along with a lady from Rome. The Principessa and Portofino - autumn bells  - Albinoni sends his last greetings - on the beach the remainders of the large party - sad gulls cry for friends, who never were true companions. Helpless faces behind the windows of the promenade. Portofino dies - only memories remain  - of Anne and the Principessa. 
"There - a shooting star."  he had often called out to Anne, under the wide Australian skies. 
"Catch it, for me!" 
She laughed herself half silly, when he jumped, like a kangaroo, down the beach, to catch her shooting star. 
'I stretch, I fetch and ... I catch it. Want to present it ... to whom?' he thought, when he watched the Principessa roar off back to Rome in her open Alfa Sport, with waving hair and no fear any more. 'Isadora Duncan would be dead by now" it shot through his head at this sight. However, in Paul's life was no room for such important and memorable incidents.  For a long time he stood there, at the entrance of the Hotel in Portofino and watched a School class collect chestnuts. Fall - The mirror of the windows shows stale faces.  The outlines of waiting get somewhat desolate around the corners. Little children feet rush through colorful foliage.  Moldiness rises from cellars. It smells of graves.  Just not of people. They lie at home - interchangeable - well preserved in deodorant fumes - they lie in their beds and dream pamphlets.

In the evening, his last in Portofino, the night waiter conquered himself in a conversation with Paul.  He shouted Grappa from the house bottle - the bottle was empty at the conclusion of the evening.  The waiter came from Cicely.  Praised his native Southern land and his four children there.  How bitterly the Principessa had wept last night, when she tried to explain her wish for children to Paul. Unfortunately, she never was able to have any. What should Paul do than just gently comfort her through the night? 
"Children - just lay beside me and dream," he had murmured very sadly. He let her come on top of him, in the dark, so that she was not able to see, or feel his tears. Yes, why did he and Anne have no children? They were old enough for that kind of responsibility then. 

Around three ó clock in the morning, the Il Patrone roared
through the empty hotel, that the two men at the bar, who anyhow did not even understand each third word they said to each other, should go to bed now. Domani, domani, shouted Il Patrone again and again. Why domani - it was morning anyhow, more domani even the Patrone could not want. When Paul paid his bill the next day, Il Patrone wiped off fifty percent of the total costs and Paul's half hearted effort to stop him, with a double Grappa on the road. With the Grappa, he slammed a thick, leather bound Guest Book in front of Paul and so Paul wrote, honored as the last guest of the season, the Credo of his solitude into the thick book:

Hear what I say:
Stalls or on stage. - YOU are in the game.
They dance your song. 
Purple and dazed they dance until you end 
your hesitation.
Go on carrying the mask 
Fool -that you dream.

Paul Liver in the fall, but not yet in the winter.

Il Patrone examined the few lines very thoroughly, shook his head repeatedly, and murmured the lines like in trance, evidently translating them into a language, understandable for himself. Ultimately he gave Paul a long and very strict glance over the rim of his, Schubert like, glasses and said, in the clearest German: "Aha, a poet."
Il Patrone bowed in a manor, even Marcello Mastroani could not have had copied, took Paul's small black bag and accompanied him to his car. As he put the bag into the boot of Paul's Mercedes, he bowed once more, looked at the car and said, almost disappointed: "Alas, a journalist."
Il Patrone stood, waving, at the driveway of the Hotel and directly behind him, the sun went down and painted Portofino deeply red, like fresh spilled blood. 

After an endlessly, tough reconciliation, Anne and Paul found back to each other. They left themselves heroically time for the process. In Tyrol, everybody screamed: Now the next will be a child!  But Paul and Anne did not listen to the summit hooligans from Tyrol. They did it their own way. Only when Babs, the indestructible, got herself pregnant on a Greek, mystery sun-island, from one incarnation of the ancient God of Sun, in form of a Greek soldier, with her second, illegitimate child and after the birth asked the rich uncle-brother from Germany to adopt the poor child, since his own wife, Anne, seemingly was not able to have children - then Anne and Paul said yes to each other. 

After forty-three hours of easily held through labor, the blessings of an epidural anesthesia make it possibly to wait laughing and champagne zipping for the joyful event, little Kyra was born. Paul naturally was present, for a modern, open-minded man belongs right there at the side of his wife, in such a unique moment of life. When he held the small, freezing frog in his arm and had to wash her, he only was able to whisper:  
"Kyra - the mistress of the house.  I want to put the whole life at your feet. You shall never be afraid - of men."
"That will then still have a little bit time, Mr. Liver," grumbled, the totally overtired, midwife and Mr. Professor Dr. Dr. Fast - that actually was really his name - laughed overjoyed, after almost forty minutes of precise sewing labor: 
"Mr. Liver, come and look at this ingenious peace of art in cleaning up a perennial tear."

So, they finally had become a family.  Families look for their safety and to prove this tradition, Anne, Paul and little Kyra set out to prove the contrary.  After a short guest performance with Cats in Hamburg, they packed up their matters, shipped the load off to Ebermergen and moved on - to Australia. Paul was fully aware of the fact, that it might be a mistake. But he felt young, did want to see neither Anne, nor Kyra freeze and did not want to be suffocated by the banality of his work any longer. Therefore - off to the warmth.  Their furniture they parked in a very beautiful, new flat in his small village and Gretl wanted to care for the plants.  Our German countryside Residence, they both called the new arrangement and took off.

After nine months in the Pacific, it was to be found, that Paul did not want to put on false German accents to win an acting job, or even worse, always lift his right arm, because at this time, Down Under still seemed to be under the impression, that coming from Germany, equals coming from the Third Reich. But he wanted to at least have honestly tried it. For Anne, for himself personally and, before all other reasons, for Kyra.  No better country in this time for children, than Australia.  After nine months, they returned to their German harbor. This harbor was not the supernaturally, beautiful harbor of Sydney, but the most natural harbor of the world: Ebermergen in the Bavarian - Schwabish Ries. Paul told his Gretl about his time in Australia and plastered her with his oversized words. He told her, how he had suffered without a Christmas tree. How very much he missed Europe, her culture, and the diversity of her nations. Now he finally was home. In Ebermergen. That Anne, increasingly often, got stomach cramps, he did not notice at all. He also did not notice, that he was lacking a certain loyalty, since their return from Australia. He abandoned his family quite often and did not take too much pride, in not betraying his wife any more. He obviously thought, that he had done his share and tried everything bye now, to make Anne happy.  As Gretl once asked him, if he did not see, that Anne was not very happy in Ebermergen, that she hardly was able to bare it, he shrugged his shoulders and said: 
"Instead of flowers wreaths are now hanging in the windows. The child waits empty handed and with impotence at its feet. The world screams.  Only the satisfied can help.  They do it best - for themselves.  I am not yet satisfied and Anne is not either. We belong here - if we go somewhere else, we will become satisfied. I do not want to be satisfied. Not yet."

Gretl stayed silent and rather went to water the flowers in the cemetery, while Paul returned to his computer, to go on writing. Paul had meanwhile transferred his small little booklet into the computer.  One day, it was shortly after the birth of his second daughter Alicia he read his notes. When he was finished, he only thought: 
'DELETE. Delete everything.'  
He marked the text and gave the order to delete.  However - being only a simple PC, Paul's computer was not in for a night shift that particular night. It refused the order and just went inaccessible. The program survived and so Paul decided to stand up for his life. 

In the evening, before Anne and the children left Europe for good, Paul sat for a very long time at his daughters' bedside. They were not sad. They were happy to fly to Sydney again and did not know that it was a way of no return this time. Alicia was loosened and absolutely wanted to hear a fairy tale.  Paul never had told them fairy tales. He always talked with them, instead of reading books, like so many other fathers that are more wonderful.
"I only can make up one."
"That you do best anyhow, Dad." laughed Kyra. 
"Come on, tell us a fairy tale, please!" shouted the exited children and so Paul told them the fairy tale of the dog, which wanted to fly.  He spoke out of his stomach. Out of the blue, without a concept or a red thread. Without thinking. The children happily fell asleep, while he was talking. 


CHAPTER FIVE

"Well then," said Paul, in his deepest, warmest voice. "The fairy tale about the dog, who wanted to fly. Once upon a time, at a time when even animals had something to say to each other, there was a young dog. One could not say, that he was absolute of noblest race, although his Master often proudly showed around his pedigree, which the young wilding to be a Baron, Nobles of and to Tratzberg.  The noble advantages Cuddle that is what the young dog was called. Was meant to live up to however had obviously been attracted to Mendel laws and so he was nothing else but a fairly normal little German shepherd. Cuddle lived in a very beautiful garden, surrounded by a wild hedge and from the distance, one could hear the roar of the ocean. 

Cuddle had a mystery.  He spoke with the animals in his garden and learned, in his young years, far more than the ordinary repertoire of a dogs language as: "Obey" and "knuckle under" and "sit" and " grub grub" or "how's my baby". Each morning he ran out into the garden and progressed in his search for new interlocutors.  With his silky snout densely at the floor he pursued the ants on their
laborious way.  Often he asked them: 
"How can you do this day by day? How do you survive this miserable trot a whole life long?"  
A small, especially inquisitive ant then climbed over his paws on top of the peak of his nose, looked deeply into his eyes and said:  
Fun. Work is simply just gigantic fun for us!" Then she pinched, jokingly, his the nose and hastened back into the grass, picked up the small branch, at which she already struggled since two days and sang cheerfully:  
" He who does not carry and drags and pulls, will end as a meat pie like so many bulls."
The ants were Cuddles friends, however he soon concluded, that for himself he never would slave along like them. 
So Cuddle pampered with all the animals of his garden a very friendly relationship. Cuddle loved to laugh a lot.  Especially with the cat from their neighbors garden. Often he sat for hours under the giant heart Cherry tree, observing and imitating her.  Whenever the cat had caught a mouse and consumed it with exquisite delight, she sat up there in the Cherry tree and took care of herself. This procedure often lasted a sheer eternity and Cuddle followed with great interest every of her movements and memorized them pedantically. He wanted to be able to disguise himself. He was totally convinced that if he would be able to act and behave like a true cat, nobody would be able to spot the dog in him. He was sure he would be fondled and caressed much more, if one just would believe he was a cat. When the cat was finished with her wash, she extended and stretched herself and rolled up comfortably in the sun.  Then she lowered her eyelids down to a sort of sneaky bedroom glance and purred to down to Cuddle:  
"Brrrrr, Cuddle.  Why can dog and cat not love each other?"
Cuddle then always became very philosophical.  He had observed the cat for long enough and had thought up the appropriate answer in his many sleepless full moon nights:
"Cats make dogs fear.  They devour mice - the innocent buggers - and then they look at dogs and in their eyes is the eternal desire of a creature for one hefty meal. She, who has an appetite as huge as this will devour you - even though perhaps out of true love."
The cat on her branch giggled softly and said:  
You just wait until I am a lioness, then you will make eyes." With this remark she usually rolled on her back, stretched herself comfortably and let the sun dry her fur.

So Cuddle spoke with all the animals in his garden and learned and learned and learned.  Often he dreamt that he one day would jump over the gigantic hedge and run after the roar of the see. Once he had tried it all ready, but he got a scolding from his Master he never would forget and from there on obeyed the human rules. At the time being, it was enough for him, to ease his curiosity about the mysteries of the world outside, by listening to the tales of the birds. In the spring, when the, completely exhausted, arrived back from their trip South, they told him about the widths of Africa and he then for weeks had the most sumptuous dreams.  He saw himself as a proud and powerful Hunter in the steppe.  At first he used to be the mysterious outsiders.  But soon, when even the elephants had accepted him as one of their brothers, yes, then he gathered a pack around him. Cuddle admired the birds for their nearly boundless freedom.  He envied them for the ability to look at the world from above. He dreamt himself wings and then flew, even though somewhat ponderous, each fall with them into the setting sun. Cuddle naturally was somewhat schizophrenic at this time. During puberty that's no miracle. Alas the feelings, the many, many feelings, which Cuddle then not yet was able to integrate into his conception of life.  Often he sat for days, locked in the cellar and howled like a wolf in the midnight sun. The birds had told him about the land where they had sun in the middle of the night. He often ran for weeks through the garden and rubbed his fur at the trees.  He wanted to get rid of his skin, which often lead to lengthy discussions with the colony of fleas he was housing in his fur. He thought: 'If I dispose my fur, then justice will understand and let me grow feathers and a pair of beautiful wings as a bonus.'  It remained an unfulfilled wish and so Cuddle was stuck with his dreams.

One day his Master, completely excited, came to him into the garden and told him, with an incomprehensible flood of words, something about a countess of and to Dönnitz - or something similar.  His Master praised the lady like she would be a four leafed clover and Cuddle did not have a clue of hat this all was meant to be about. He pricked up one's ears, put one of his, meanwhile heavy and male, paws on his Masters knee, examined him with a glance and laughed his splendid laugh from the corner of his eyes. But his Master did not stop to talk. Suddenly he had a bottle in his hand and sprayed Cuddle with a strangely fragrant powder. Cuddle thought: 'I going mad. I'll never get that stuff out of my fur and the cat is on vacation and therefor can't lick it clean for me.' And his Master talked and talked, said something like "behave yourself" and "Don't disgrace me" and "You lucky lad" and Cuddle only could suspect what might lie ahead of him. At the next morning he was woken up before even ready to get up. His Master waved a very beautiful piece of rump steak under his nose.  Was it for Sunday?  Cuddle snapped the gigantic piece of meat and devoured it without swallowing. Then the other person came, who always smelled so wonderfully and had these two yield humps on her chest. Cuddle often gladly stuck his damp snout between them. Between the humps he would have love to rest for days. But the person, it apparently lived with his Master in the same bed, yes this person did not like it when he tried and always screamed instantly: 'Get your lecherous tyke away off me.'

Cuddle did not know, what lecherous meant. He knew what hot meant, he knew the sweet pain between his hind legs.  But lecherous?  Now well.  Persons. Human person - or were they called people? Understand them who ever wants to.  The person with the humps now brushed his fur until it glistened, no, shined and put on a very beautiful, new necklace. Cuddle did not like necklaces.  He had been free his whole life long and when one put a necklace on him, this always meant, that a new person, in a white coat, stuck needles into his back flank, or blinded him with a bright torch. Or, that he had to walk, deeply ducked and narrowly at foot, through screaming, roaring stinking traffic. The air then was always heavy like sulphur and his paws still hurt him for days after that.  No, he hated necklaces.  

But today he got a new, especially elegant one. 'What's all the fuss about?' Cuddle thought by himself. The two persons around him were not behaving like normally. The one with the humps even smelled more exciting than usually and his Master constantly ran nervously his fingers through his hair. Then Cuddle was locked in on the back seat of the car and today none of the two human people got upset about his dirty paws.  A strange day.  The excursion lasted long, too long.  Cuddle would have preferred to run along beside the car, or even better, just disappeared into the woods. But he sat on the back seat like a sheik and examined deeply bored the landscape outside.  Once, it made a horrible bang and his Master cursed something like "damned birds".  When Cuddle turned around, to look through the back window, he saw a young blackbird sitting by the roadside.  With broken wings and dying eyes.   Cuddle wept quietly for a long time, because with each dying bird a little bit of his longing dream  died too.  He longed  to jump out of the car and make the blackbird, with a short bite into its neck,  the dying more easily. But his Master gave him only a rude pat on the sensitive snout and so Cuddle gave up the attempt. When the car finally stopped, Cuddle happily jumped out, exploded in the air, raged like a maniac around the vehicle and jumped on his Masters shoulders, which made the Master promptly sit down in his best suit, right into the only mud puddle on the neatly groomed premises. Cuddle was very glad, to be
released from the miserable tin-cage. He felt great and his Master said:  "Now look at the dear lad. Cuddle is happy to finally have his first adventures in love."

'Just a moment. Dear lad?  Adventures?  When and where?  Now? I have no urge for pleasure today,' Cuddle thought. 'And why first?' Suddenly Cuddle remembered, that his Master had no idea about the hole underneath the hedge, which he had dug in strenuous and devastating labor throughout the last winter. His secret exit from the garden - his heavens gate on the way to the ocean. To the world outside. Up till now he had not been courageous enough to make his way to the shore. The closer he came, the louder grew the thundering roar and then Cuddle was always attacked by a very strange feeling. Not that he was scared,. No way. But quietly he thought, it might not yet be time for the sea. Therefore he remained nearby the garden and hoped to meet one of the easy going she-dogs. They were cheerfully roaming about out there in the freedom and when he told them about his impressive pedigree, their eyes started to go damp and their attitude became soft as the would turn into a young deer. Talking about deer. That was a memory, which still did not let him sleep. One night he went on a stroll in the nearby forest and there he met this deer. First it ran away, full of fear, when it saw Cuddle.  But, the more often Cuddle visited the little forest, the more comfortable the sweet thing got. Soon Cuddle was able to convince the beautiful young, forest haunted lady, that he did not want to hunt her, but only urchin for stroking her with his eyes and have a little chat. So the id and sometimes it even happened then, that they came very close to each other and softly rubbed their snouts and bathed in tenderness.  That was then the most beautiful thing Cuddle ever had experienced. How ever, one night a more wildly, pretty absurd spur came over him and he started to climb his deer from behind. The deer got so frightened, that he retreated rather immediately and apologized verbosely, for this one attack of uncontrolled passion.  It must have been full moon that night  and his deer accepted his plea and so they conversed through the night about hat would be if and hat one would call their children Deerdog. But they rejected this idea very quickly. Just in this very night Cuddles deerlady  was conquered by a huge fallow-stag. Cuddle, of course, intended to fight, but the fallow-deer only once shook his head  the mighty antler, which sported horns sharp as a knife and so Cuddle quickly came to the conclusion: Once a dog - always a dog.
His deer lady followed the stag into the deep forest and Cuddle was depressive for days. Sometimes he still sees the deer lady.  She then stands at the edge of the wood and shyly smells over to him and the memory of her  turns into a sweet  song, which waves over to him  from the distance of all  possibilities. Ha!  First love adventure!  If they just knew. Sow ones wild oats the human race may call this.   If he would have had horns, he would have had none left since a long time. First Love. Ha!

So fully in his thoughts, Cuddle had not noticed, that his Master had submitted him to a trim Lady, at least, that's what Cuddle thought those kind of humans were called. He felt a bit uneasy. He was not to be "submitted". That always smelled so suspiciously of defeat.  The lady held the lead very short, guided him to a cage behind the house, opened the gate and ushered him in. Cuddle looked around in this high society kennel and thought: 'Not bad for a dog's life.'
The Lady whistled melodiously through her teeth - are real Ladies allowed to do something like that? When Cuddle heard the whistle, he slowly retreated back ton the wired fence, sat down on his trembling legs and pressed himself tightly against the expensive wire netting.  In deep suspense he stared at the small door
of the cottage at the other end of the cage.  First he saw nothing at all - then the tip of a snout, not as large and crude as his own, no, soft and delicately pointed, with a wonderful line and golden swabs therein.  Then he saw an eye, shyly luminous, looking suspiciously at him and finally he saw: HER. What came out of the door took his breath away. He crowded even more densely at the fence and began spastically to jerk.  He never ever had seen anything like this. Helplessly he stared at the countess of and to Dönnitz, which now came, trebling through the huge kennel, into his direction. This creature seemed to float. In deep despair he turned his head to his mater, only to find him hanging at the wire netting, staring at the sophisticated lady with wide open mouth, stupid eyes and flattened nose. Cuddle, tentatively, started to whimper pitifully.  But nobody took any notice of him.  He wanted to scream: He, you beauty.  Don't get to close to me.  I have the plague.  I am a horrible and desolate dog and have nothing for you, you might need or want. Go back and wait for a Prince.
But he even could not whisper and the countess came closer and closer, growled dangerously, but so wonderful and  beautifully, pulled high her chaps - was that a smile or only declaration of war - sat down in front of him, quite densely, but not  as densely, that he would not have been able to admire her stunning Beauty. With wonderful gracefulness she  revolved  in the circle, calmed down, flat on the floor, winked with her left eye and said, completely:  'A man - finally a man.' Come, come! Come sniffing.'
Her voice worked like magic on Cuddle.  He loosened from his corner and carefully began to circle the Beauty. He started nudging at her flank, sucking in deeply the delightful perfume. Hesitating he  approached her rear, well suspecting, that immense caution was asked for here - but the Beauty did not escape him, nor retreat.   No, she met him and admitted him to herself. He even did not have to say a word, did not have to try to be the macho macho, did not need to act out the irresistible rude.  She let him come near and through that took all wind from his sails.

It was no wild an raunchy love night. Nothing as playfully brutal, as s on his little nightly excursions outside the garden. Nothing as innocently tender as with his deer. Nothing of taking possession.   No, both accepted each other and sometimes the Beauty whispered in great astonishment: 'From us could come love.' At home, together with the Master and the human with the two bumps, he did not feel well at all, after this delicious night. In clear nights, he sometimes made his way to the edge of the forest and called for  his deer.  However,  that did no longer hear him.  Days later, Cuddle thought he has seen his deer, but it was not alone any more. It had two fawns at its side. Gone, Cuddle thought, all gone. The visits to the Beauty became regular and like the first time, they always were wonderful and both felt a deep solidarity for each other. But one day, all the sudden, Cuddle was not allowed to see his Beauty any more. He did not understand the world any more and suffered in deep agony. He also  was brushed no more, and the days of  thick rump steak were finally over. The weeks passed by  and he felt as solidly as the stars in the clear winter sky. He locked himself up in deep distress, became sullen and grumpy and the garden was silent and empty, since the winter was so hard, with heaps of snow. One day his Master and the human with the two bumps started to behave like on the day, when he met the Beauty countess.  Again was sitting on the back seat of the car, exquisitely groomed and  did not know, whether he should weep or laugh.  He had no clue or expectation, of what there was to come. This time he did not jump into the air in deep delight, nor did he rage around the car.  This time he stood still,  with his tail drawn in tail, silently waiting.   The lady led him into the kennel, he stood still in the middle and waited. His Master called out to him, something what sounded like: 'Go on, Lad. Search. Search.' So he took his frightened heart into both paws and approached the door, behind he supposed to find his fate. He entered the hut and sniffed. There was a new scent in the hut. In the far corner, on a bed of fresh hay, there she lay. Cuddle growled kindly and filled with bliss. His Beauty  waved him, with dull eyes, to come closer.  What was that?  What was hanging on her heavy teats?  Small  bundles. Fury, dark, damp little snouts, with half blind eyes, blue like the summer sky. Paws, to week to carry their own weight, nor the heavy weight of the world. Cuddle approached carefully and his Beauty growled softly:  'Meet your puppies.'
And Cuddle licked his descendants,  with never suspected tenderness,  over the small, petite faces, rolled them over into the right light with his paw, gave one huge bark of sheer luck and grew silent. He trembled, he had to sit down, for with the roar of a sudden thunder the final truth had reached him: 'Game over!'
he heard the wind howling around the hut, screaming gloatingly:  'Fly.  You wanted to fly with the birds in the wind.  Dreams!  You poor, stupid dog.'
The beautiful did not observe anything of this. She was too busy with herself and her new gained status.   Once she had loved - how long ago was that - only her Cuddlemann.  Now she finally could distribute her love to where she saw sense and future.  And Cuddles future?  And Cuddles sense?  He put his large head between his front paws, and look at his Beauty, with big, questioning eyes. She smiled - he smiled - and then he closed his  eyes and wept.

The weeks, which in a dogs life are like years, passed by.  At home a lot had changed. His Master had promised him a big surprise and one day she arrive. His Beauty moved in with him. 'Breeding' was the word he heard too often in the following weeks. He did not understand this word and also did not want to understand it. His Master also  had discovered the whole in the hedge and closed it up. On top of everything else - what a blow. Cuddle was caught.  Now, he did not have a bad life. He had everything you need to live a decent dog life. Since the Beauty lived with him, he always got good food. No can food any more. Over the times of cow ears, pig eyes and tripe with polenta. Now it was only lean cuisine. The puppies grew up splendidly, they were his Masters pride his Masters and the beautiful sunned herself  in their splendor.  But Cuddle was sad.  Rarely he now spoke with the ants, or the cat and these conversations were more insignificant conversation, then meant to enlighten his life. The birds did not stop to tell the same old stories over and over again and so Cuddle started to long for his long lost youth. 

Secretly Cuddle began to train his take-off power.  He had to manage the hedge.  With one single, powerful leap. If he could not fly, then he at least wanted to be able to leap into a bit of own freedom. When his Master sometimes caught him at his training, he instantly was put on the chain. The Master thought Cuddle must have lost his mind. From then on Cuddle camouflaged his Training-sessions extremely cleverly.  And soon, the only final thing he needed for his task, was the heart of a lion, to one night dare the ultimate leap. And when he felt he was ready, he crept secretly and furtively into the garden. He quietly thought: 'You are one coward of a dog. Have you never heard of a fair fare well?' He once more looked around in his garden.  He marked, for the memory, all trees, sniffed into the anthill and whispered to the hunting cat:  'You would look splendid, as a lioness.'  He then, cheerfully, growled up to the bird's nests up, attempted the hedge and jumped. The hedge came threatening near  and the trimmed
branches scratched his stomach. But Cuddle jumped, he did not give up and dreamt himself on the other side of the hedge. He never  had been able to exercise the touch landing and so the footpath on the other side of the hedge came closer and closer much too fast, but he could not brake off his decline any more.  His left frontpaw cracked, the pain came quickly as he turned three somersaults. Dead silence. His friends in the garden kept their breath. If one decides to rise above all doubts, then  all who witnessed this attempt unite in great support. Slowly Cuddle recollected himself from the ground and began, despite the hurting paw, to run as fast he could. He ran towards the blazing red stripe at the horizon.  There, at the bottom of the gloaming banner of his freedom,  the ocean  was waiting for him. Soon it began to dawn and the fresh dew in the grass cooled his wounds.  He ran and ran.  The roaring of the sea grew louder and louder, but today he felt no fear. He knew: 'Now.  Now it is time.'  And all the sudden he was there.  Right in front of him she was, with rising tide, Enormously roaring but endlessly free. He stood on a dune and in the far east one could see the first glimpse of the rising sun, as if she had just waited for Cuddle's arrival. Like a fiery ball the sun climbed out of the sea, shook the night from her glistening plumage, gave Cuddle a smile, which progressed, like a golden street from the other end of the world right into his eyes and let them gloom like thousand candles. Cuddle looked at this miracle and knew: 'I have not gone astray.' He ran along on the beach, played with the sugary foam-crowns of the waves, rolled in the sand, tied first contacts to the crab, jumped high to follow the gulls and took diving lessons from the fish. Cuddle held his snout in the stiff wind and the wind rejoiced: ' A dog, which emerges to the world.' And Cuddle laughed.

Cuddle gadded about the beach for a long time. He did not count the days, because this did not count for him any more. Sometimes, when walkers made the beach too loud, he hid behind a dune. If one of those loud humans once discovered him, he often heard them scream: 'Look at this ugly, dirty, skunk of a roving dog.' Yes, his fur had become disheveled and dull from the salty water. Dirt pasted between the claws, the snout was harsh from wind and sand. But his eyes were lit by an unruly light. He felt as powerful and beautiful as never before. Cuddle, the sandpiper.  At noon he/it mostly drowsed endlessly in the sun.  If it rained, he quickly decided to take his weekly, or sometimes monthly bath. Finally he now was able to transform his observation of the cat into something useful and always had to laugh about himself, when he licked himself dry like a cat. One fine day he proudly lay on a  dune, caught up in a heated discussion with a gull from oversees, about the fundamental sense of  dung disposal. Cuddle steadfastly represented the opinion, that the gulls were antisocial, since they  constantly simply let fall anything out of the sky without taking care of it thereafter. The gull only laughed at him and said: 'We are free, while you must constantly yourself somehow.' Cuddle  prepared himself to do one of his, meanwhile perfected,  big jumps in order to grab the gull out of the sky and teach her some decent behavior, when he herd a strange sound. It sounded like a pitiful crying.  It came from the far end of the beach. Cuddle asked the many gulls, which had flown in to support their colleague,  to the shut up their beaks and since they all actually deeply respected Cuddle, they surprisingly did. Now they all could hear the lamentation completely clearly. It sounded terribly in despair, as if short before dying.  Cuddle asked one the oversee gulls to fly to the spot, from where the complaining came.  One swung itself into  the wind and looked with its sharp eyes down the beach. Suddenly the gull let itself been carried along from a blast and soon hung over a place, almost on the other end of the beach.  Cuddle stared down the beach, but was unable to see anything. Well, he still was just a simple dog. So he started, almost leisurely,  to trod down the beach to where the gull still was hanging in the upcurrent.  The closer he got, the more clearly he was able to see   the outlines of a black, adhesive mass lying on the beach. He did not suspect what it was, but the wind now carried the smell of oil into his fine nose. He reached the pitifully whimpering bundle and circled, curiously around it. There was bare fear to be read in the clear eyes. The bundle helplessly tried to move, while the gull screamed gloatingly from above: 'A duck, a stupid wild duck.  Serves her right. Pitch and sulphur over her!'
With this the gull flew off and screeched the gloating news to its comrades, which dived out of the sky immediately,  to land  beside Cuddle and the wild duck, which must have got caught in an oil plague. All screeched in wild  confusion: 'Let her drown.  Push her back into the water back.  Give her a mercy killing.  She is lost.' And now, for the first time, since Cuddle lived at the beach, he lost his temper and barked outrageously: 'Shut your nasty beaks and take care of your own infamies.' He approached the helpless duck and touched her gently with his snout. 'Help me!'  implored the duck with an almost fading voice. 'I will help you,' Cuddle said and simultaneously knew, that he was only a dog, which could help very little.

And for Cuddle began a time, which he should never  forget  again.  It took him hours until he finally was able to grasp the duck with his teeth and carry her back to his dune. With his puppies that was so simple. He just grasped them firmly in the nape and carried them where ever he wanted them. But a duck?  He easily could have cracked her delicate bones, which were just made to fly with. The duck could not help him either, she was much too  pasted so terribly helpless. But finally he managed it. He was so exhausted, that he only wanted to lay down and sleep. But he was too scared, that the duck might die while he was asleep. And in her eyes he could see that she was very thirsty. He would have given everything for the chance to be an elephant just for a few seconds. Then he could have got her some water with his trunk. How he  envied the Eskimo dogs in Alaska, which catch themselves fish  from waterholes in the ice. Why had he never learned anything decent?  'Breeding!' he thought. 'Now I understand. I was good for breeding. That was my task, my life.' He looked up into the sky and fervently hoped for rain. Although he had bathed just yesterday.  And believe it or not,  heaven was kind and understanding and opened its locks.  Cuddle quickly  ran to the place, where he had buried a tin can. He found the place at once. Nothing to say against his dog nose.  He placed the can on the dune and waited, until it had filled with rainwater.  Unwavering and  dangling he sat in the icy wind.  Then he carefully took the can between his teeth and carried it back to his duck.  She was much to weak to lift her head and so Cuddle slobbered the cool Wet with his long tongue from the can and the few drops which made it into the ducks beak seemed to help her instantly. But she also urgently needed something to Eat. 'Fish,' Cuddle thought.   He quickly ran down to the beach down and called out to the fish: 'He, fish. Could you please come a little closer to the beach, so that I can catch one of you?' The fish goggled even  more stupidly than usually.  Only one, a completely stupid sole, thought it had  misunderstood something here, swam inertly to the bank and mumbled: 'You want to catch me?  Are you completely out of your mind? You a dog and no fisherman.' But Cuddle only replied: 'What can I do? The duck is hungry and urgently needs nutritious food. Will you do me the favor and help out?'
The sole, in its astonishment, was unable to close its  muzzle and Cuddle took the chance, bit heartily into the water, caught, to his e
own amazement, the fish at the tail, tore it from the water and pounded it wildly around. He released a joyful scream. In each dog there also rests the heart of a Brown bear. But wile screaming he lost the sole, which now was helplessly fidgeting in the sand and Cuddle had great trouble to avoid that it jumped back into the sea.   
Finally he caught the fish again and growled between his teeth:  I am very sorry, fish. But you serve a mercy task. You shall not regret it.' He carried the sole back to the duck and put him, closely in front of her beak. The duck gratefully snapped it and devoured the sole with one short choking. 'She devours it,'  Cuddle thought, but it did not appear unusual to him.  The night closed in and Cuddle calmed down beside the duck, to submit a little of his own warmth to her. He cuddled narrowly up to her, and so they both fell asleep.   It was their first,  tenderly entwined
night together. 

In the following days Cuddle unremittingly fought for the life of his duck.  In laborious hours he licked the oil from her feathers.  Again and again he sets out to the beach to catch more fish and hoped daily for more rain. His muzzle felt dreadfully painful and the paws were bloody from the endless fights with the fish in the sand.  One day, he had forgotten for how long he was working  already, his goal was reached. The wild duck was clean as a whistle and oh miracles:  She was the most beautiful creature Cuddle ever had laid his eyes on. During the nights, when they 
they lay under their eiderdown made of stars, they whispering told each other about their lives. During this time Cuddle learned a lot about wild ducks and about their enormous solitude on the long flights to find  new life in the South. Cuddles duck had missed the rest of her tribe in Tanger. First she wanted to stay with the drake, she had grown quite close to throughout the winter. But in spring the drake wanted to fly down to the Kilimanjaro in East Africa.  There he had  and other bride waiting for him, which the duck of course had not known, but always suspected. So she found herself sitting in Tanger all alone and did not know where to go. So she decided to dare the long journey to the north all by herself. In the beginning everything went quite well, but she had to rest on the water quite often and once she was so exhausted, that she did not realize when she drifted into the oil plague, which a British tanker had carelessly left behind.  When she awoke she could not spread her wings any more.  A friendly current took her compassionately along and threw her onto Cuddles beach. There she would have surely died well - if there would not have been a dog, who once, in a clear moon night, took pride in the jump of his life. 

The duck grew more and more robust from day to day. And also   more beautiful.  It was, as if  the conversations during their long nights would steel her for the life after the awakening.  In these tender of billing and cooing she called Cuddle 'My rescuer. My lover. My angel and treasure.' Cuddle knew only one name for her: Duck.  My wild duck.  That was enough for him.  One night he confessed his boundless love for her and told her about his secret dream, to once be able to fly.  She tenderly  pecked his nose and whispered:  'If ducks would be like you, I could love you too.'
Cuddle did not understand what she meant with this remark. He was just a simple-minded dog, who did not care if it was a duck, a dear or even the long forgotten Beauty countess, at who's feet he put his endless love. When the duck saw the sadness in his eyes, she told him,  in her softest voice, but with a supernatural lighting in the eyes,  of a drake in Finland. 'He has the most beautiful and softest eyes in the whole duck world. His feathers are as if they were spun from finest gold. With spots like diamonds. Him I love, love, love. But he is a whole life away from me. He is a little bit cowardly, but he is very beautiful.  He never ever flew with us to the South. He does not trust himself to be strong enough for the trip. He is scared of so much new things to see. He remains at home, there in Finland.  There people have built him a warm and secure nest. There he lives in safety and feels as grand as a king.' Cuddle growled short warning, but the duck did not understand him. For a long time she looked deeply into his eyes and sighed deeply, suddenly spread her wings,   soared up highly into the sky to catch up with the gentle wind. Cuddle ran after her and screamed: 'Take me with the. Take me along with you.' But the duck rolled herself on her back and took a bath in her longing. 
For hours Cuddle sat waiting on the beach.  When his duck returned to him at the edge of the falling darkness, he lay down in the sand and said quietly: 'I will not give up.' 
- The duck looked at him and laughed her wonderful laughter: 'I do believe that. You never give up. Perhaps an unsuspecting God will show us the way to truth, my angel. I want to fly along this way.  Do you come along?' 'Lets go!' said Cuddle, leaped up, started to run as if for take off, jumped high into the air and the duck followed him, flew with him like he with her and landed, rather unceremoniously  back on the harsh floor of real facts. The duck sadly circled above him and said: 'You can not do it. Fly, my angel. Fly my treasure. Fly my love. Fly for you and me.' Cuddle ran to the end of the beach, incited up the steep reef up, which stretched hundred meters above sea level.  He took one deep breath and jumped. He hovered in the upcurrent and the duck flew laughing with him, deeper and deeper, until he crashed, with a big bang, into the water, which broke all his bones at once. The duck elegantly landed beside him. She swam to cuddle, who was drifting in the water on his back, picked him tenderly into he snout and remained silent. Like this they swung upon the soft waves for a long time, looking at each other  in deep despair.  Once more the duck cuddled up densely to the broken dog.  Then she soared up, higher and higher into the sky and she cried, like only true wild ducks can cry and spilt her tears, like warm rain on Cuddle. Once more she nodded down to him, twisted off  and flew in a direction,
in which Cuddle supposed Finland.  Cuddle called the duck  with his eyes.  His mourning must have reached her heart by surprise and brought one truly wept tear into her eye.   This single tear she threw behind and it fell directly into Cuddle's left eye and blinded it for ever. The tide washed Cuddle back ashore. From there he started in that very night to make his way back home. When he arrived, days later, at his hedge, not only his bones were demolished, but the whole poor dog. 

His wounds were cured, only the left hind leg he still dragged along. The leg had badly healed. is left eye remained for always blind and served him as protection for his lonely dreams.  He soon looked like an acceptable dog again, but deep inside he licked wounds, which never would heal. His Beauty countess died. Like he himself. The puppies had become much more beautiful then their mother and his Master was missing a lot of his former spirit. On Wednesdays Cuddle went into the garden and gossiped with the old friends.  He had established himself in his doglife.  Anyhow, no one would have understood, that a wild duck can actually change a dog's life. Sometimes he heard his Master say:  'Put him to sleep. he suffers too much.'  Even though Cuddle only wept secretly. One day, when the person with the white uniform and the  needles came, to examine him once more in detail, the long forgotten big dream stirred up in Cuddle. That evening he went out into his large, old  garden and examined the hedge.  The cat, which meanwhile hardly was able to get up the big Cherry tree, purred while passing by: ' Is our adventure dog itching again?' And so Cuddle made his final, big decision.  He started running, jumped and flew like he never ever had flown before and the cat fell in deep Shock and great surprise from the branch she was sitting on. The ants stormed out of their anthill, the birds choked on their evening worm-snacks. The whole garden  observed,  with speechless astonishment, the big dog with that lame, left hind leg and the blind, left eye.  They saw like he flew, as if he had grown wings over night. The hedge went shocked down on its knees and thereby opened up the way for Cuddle.  
Softly, pliantly like a panther he touched down on the other side and started top run instantly. He ran towards the roar of the ocean, at a speed,  which no greyhound would have been able to keep up with in this special night.  As he arrived on his dune, hardly out of breath, he stood still, put his head back and howled into the wind. The wind was in a friendly mood that night and carried away the poor dogs cry to where only wild ducks still can hear. Cuddle strolled down to the beach and made himself comfortable in the sand. He put his head between the front legs and waited for the sun and the tide to rise.  

When the sun came up, she sent, like on Cuddles first day at the beach, a golden stream of light right into his left eye and made it see again. The tide rose considerably, washing around Cuddle, who gave himself away completely. He hovered on the waves, swung up and down with them, and when the low tide cleared the beach, Cuddle let himself be pulled out with it into the open sea. He felt like weightless, floating along on his back and did not know if he was dead already or just was dreaming. For one last time he stared up into the deep blue sky and like a stone the wild duck fell down  to him. With this flirtatious way to fold her wings, which Cuddle loved so much, she landed gently on his tummy. Cuddle only said: 'Hi.' The duck looked deep into his eyes and one could see the glimmer of genuine tearpearls in hers. She started to speak, he started to speak. Like in the old days, in the clear starry nights. Their questions and answers were as tender as the foamy waves. They were floating in the ocean, just the two of them and everybody else kept away from them. Lovers one should not eavesdrop on, probably thought the Chinese tuna fishing cutters and stayed in a respectful distance. They fished their tuna and waited, until they finally could get the two chatting floaters on board, to ask them their curious questions.

Sometimes, in cool moon night, the whispering winds tell us a fairy tale. The winds whisper the fairy tale of the dog who wanted to fly in our ears. The wind blows this tale into our hearts and children's eyes become marveling big.  A dog, who  lives to big dream of life together with a Finnish wild duck?  Is he allowed to do that? Can he? May he?  And the winds the giggle softly and whisper cleverly: A dog who sees  - is allowed anything! A dog who dreams can be the universe.


CHAPTER SIX

"The End." said Paul softly. Kyra and Alicia were deeply asleep.  Both smiled in their dreams. When Paul covered up Kyra she murmured: "Don't stop!" and slept on. Paul kissed the two girls softly and whispered something about his big love into their ears. It was the children's  last evening in Germany.
"How will this end?" Paul thought. What kind of a story was that, he just had told them?  From the door came the voice of his wife.
"Do you actually know what you are doing?"
"You have been listening?"
"You're going since more than two hours."
"Do you want to talk?"
"Only if you'll be serious with me."
"I am always serious with you, Anne. I always meant it seriously."
They placed themselves opposite of each other in the living room. On top of all the misfortune, Paul's mother had died two weeks ago. She disappeared from life without saying Good bye to Paul.  He wanted to come, visit her in the hospital, but she just said: "I'm not going to die this instant. Finnish your production and then come."
Said it and was dead.   
Later Paul learned about a letter from the doctor who took care of his Grandmother. She was ninety-four and just did not want to go. Paul knew, that his mother always had money problems. Since she was divorced from the doctor with the magic hood, she was not so well off any more. For a daughter from a rich back ground not an easy bread. Paul's parents got divorced on their twenty fifth wedding anniversary. A clear proof for the dramatic potential, which lay in the family. His mother had hoped for the money from the quite high inheritance her own mother was sitting on for many years. But she just hung in there. She always told anyone who wanted to hear it: "My Gustl had promised me, to never leave me alone.  And then he decided cowardly  to go when he was only was eighty six of age. Now he can wait for me. I'll see this through."
For Paul's mother this  statement, an her mothers impeccable health appeared to be the end of her own life. She just did not take care of a cancer of the womb, got operated much too late, was well for a few months after and then her lungs were full of metastasis. Suicide.  That was certain for Paul.  She must have fallen have fallen asleep very quietly.  No she lay in a feudal grave. For Paul this grave was much too large and ostentatiously.  But his mother wanted it like that. All right then..  If she needed that much space for herself even in her death.  She even had taken care of her own particular gravestone.  'In of the hope of a life in peace" was engraved on it. Red sandstone  it had to be.  Art. In Tyrol.  Stay here past death, cost it what may. One could puke.           
"All right, talk!"  came Ann's order.
"I believed, I can teach a woman the truth. Double fault"  said Paul all the sudden and brutally.  "When tow love each other - simple. If two want to understand each other -           separate ways."
"Do you want to understand me, or just yourself, Paul?"
"Us both.  Was did Canetti say? The most important thing:  To strengthen a beautiful woman's self-confidence."
"Perhaps it is time, that you say that, what you mean."  Anne treated herself to an other glass of white wine. Her           oversized self-discipline held straight like a candle. Paul looked at her and sighed: 
"Often I prayed to myself I would give everything if she just would love me for what I am myself."
"Are you talking about Mascha?" Gallbladder bitterness was in her voice. 

After their return from Sydney, Paul had begun a fully          powerless affair with an actress in Nuremberg, to only prove to himself, that even after the Australian flop he still was a man in command. At the very end of this Drama Paul and Anne had come to the conclusion that it all must have had something to do with a kind of fear of life. They gave themselves two years, before the decided on the birth of their second daughter Alicia. But in the long run Alicia still may have been a result of this fling with Mascha.
"No.  With Mascha it always was only: Dearest -  is that your name? I have found out much too late, what really had happened with Mascha. Today I must or should say:           Mascha - that is a synonym for abuse of authority in relation to a man."
"I no longer can believe that  this situation calls for the right to talk about the abuse of men!" shouted Anne, for the first time almost out of control. 
"If women, who make themselves  even prettier every day suffer from an inferiority complex, men with imagination become useless!"
Paul had leaped up and rubbed his head on the cold           windowpane.  
"That's not one of your trivialities, so don't quote it"  snapped Anne.
"But it is correct and points out exactly you."
"Too bad, that my man has no imagination."
"For it your man clears each stone out of your way for a simple kick in the Ass."
"Now do not get emotionally, Paul.  I do believe that no one besides me has the right for it at the moment."
"My emotions can be compared with my table manners. I eat what will be served.  My emotions are my table manners.  I lick the plate until it shines brightly."
"We all know that, by now. You never do hide it. Why are you so angry? Perhaps you should try to not to every now and then." 
 "My anger?  Senseless to give it up."
"What have gone so wrongly, Paul?  "
"You were never a tree.  Never a rose.  Never a rock.  Never a bird.  Never a poem.  You were always only you.  Is that fair?"
"Kiss my Ass, Paul," came it shortly, dryly and very determined from Anne.  She always knew exactly, when and how to set her points.  
"Now, for the first time you have said 'Kiss my Ass' to me.  
Is that the discovery of your independence or your most longing wish?"
Anne took herself a new glass of white wine and stirred around in it for very long time. Then she sighed deeply, looked at Paul with tears in her eyes and said calm again:
"All right then, let's play it your stile, Mr. Psychologist. Ping Pong."
Ping Pong they called their discussion, where they threw words at each other to come to a clearer point. Those key-words often shoed them the right way to each other and it mostly happened at the end of their long kitchen nights. So Anne threw her first word:
"Conversations?"
"Precisely past each other."
"Actors?"
"The largest bunch of idiots."
"Actresses?"
"First try life, then brilliant on stage."
"I want to think no more?"
"It harms love."
"My body?"
"Lives."
"My brain?"
"Thinks."
"Legs?"
"Carrying me."
"And?"
"I eat.  I drink.  I sleep.  Formerly I proudly showed off how to carry a heart. Today I carry responsibility."
"A dream?"
"Alicia!"
"Why?"
"Nobody should dry her tears, if she does not want it."  
"Aggression?"
"A truly positive way of life."
"Wounds?"
"To put the finger into the wound as long as it needs to heal."
"Sarcasm?"
"Shield against the nonsense."
"Cynicism?"
" The only chance of survival for dreamers."
"Fatalists?"
"Being buried standing straight up because they fear a comfortable bed."  
"Male - Utopians?"
"Drowned Aquarius."
"Female - Utopians?"
"Lifesavers of  a drowned male Aquarius."
"What has gone so wrong, Paul?"  asked Anne very           quietly.  "I am a Gemini. But my other side is almost the same. You know that. I cannot swim in your waters. I am not like you.  I am simple.  Not so creative. I am no driving force.  Not so breathless.  I am a Gemini. You are the Aquarius, the utopian, the dreamer, the globetrotter, the rover, the man who sees light behind the moon.  I am not that.  I don't want to run after you, just to work in a field I am not created for."
" Of course you are created for it.  Who else but you?"         "I am a dancer, Paul.  Dancer.  Not a choreographer.  I           can dance no more.  That hurts, that is  madly painful, you know that. We have two daughters, who need a mother and no dancer, no choreographer."
"And also no father who is a dream dancer."
Anne had to laugh.  Even in this situation Paul was able to get her laugh.  
"However -  they need a dream dancer as long he remember that a dream dancer can also be a dream father." Said Anne and did not smile any more.
Paul  had nothing to say to this.  He was tired and empty.           He knew, that he could not give Anne the answers,           which she needed so necessarily at the moment. 
"What happened in Meiningen?" she asked him softly. "I thought, you love this, this new actress. Was Mascha not enough? And now suddenly this polish woman.  This singer.  What has happened with the actress in Meiningen? What happened with Mascha in Nuremberg? Did you gamble or was there finally someone who was able to fake it, before you could fake it?"
"When I saw her for the first time I remembered. When she sat before me I believed that I know her. When she lay naked besides me, she was a stranger." 
"Spare me the details."
Anne took herself a cigarette, although the old one was still burning in the ashtray, downed her glass of wine, filled it up again and threw the bottle against the wall. For a long time she sat there with cramped hands, while Paul still was leaning against the window, hoping to cool his head.
"You look wearily," murmured Anne into her wine.
"It was rather stressy." 
Paul had only come home on this day, to be with the children on their last day.
"That I can easily understand," poisoned Anne the Air. 
"Anne, I am not here to fight with you," tried Paul to calm her down. 
"Are you sure, that you can't give up this, this ... singer? Like you gave up your actresses?" 
"Very sure." The way she said 'singer' almost let him scream. But he had sworn to himself to stay calm.
"Are you sure, that you can give up us?" asked Anne  timidly.
"Yes." The answer came clearly, clearly and irrevocably. 
"And your huge, endless love of me, Paul?"
"Is still here.  I only can live her any more."  
"So I obviously have conceded much too late, that I love you, Paul."
"Did you ever love me, Anne?"
"I liked you, I looked up to you.  You gave me safety and
I knew, that you,  despite everything, really love me.  As I discovered then, that also within me love for you  had increased and grown big, it was  already too late."
"When did you discover that, Anne?"          
Anne remained silent very long. Then she took a small swallow of  white wine and wiped with her small finger over the marble table, as if to draw her last will on it. 
"Two months ago, Paul."
"Two months ago? After fourteen years of marriage and sixteen years coexistence?"  
"It was at the airport, when we came back from Sydney. I knew, that you only  have sent me home for so long, because something was going on. But when you were hiding  behind that pillar at the airport when you picked us, so that we would not see you, I suddenly knew, what that feeling was I kept feeling coming for quite a while. Why did you hide, Paul?"
"I wanted to see, what I feel when I see the tree of you, without you seeing me."
After a long pause Anne asked: "And what did you feel?"
"Nothing," said Paul. "Absolutely nothing. Even no mourning.  It was awful."
Anne slowly got up.  She had drunk a little bit too much           and the funeral of the mother-in-law and the whole power and courage which  she needed for this separation, had taken its toll. Paul wanted to support her, but she insisted to manage alone. Prima Ballerina. Great Discipline up to the declining.  Like always she was made up perfectly.  She  was thirty nine years old and exactly as beautiful as always, time had not changed her beauty. She was wonderful. But Paul was not able to act out a sort of Pygmalion any longer. 

"Don't take us to the airport tomorrow. Go now. The   children know, that you do not come. They understand           that. I explained it.  Go please -  now.  And drive carefully."
"Are you sure, this is good, Anne?"
Yes, as long can't tell me the story about your singer, this is good. Can you tell me the story, Paul?"
"No. Not yet.  Perhaps I never can tell it.  I only know, that it must be like it is."
"I feel sorry for you, Paul. You are a poor man."

Paul nodded softly and left. He climbed in his Mercedes and drove off into the night.  Where to? Close to the singer, who's story he was not able to tell. To no one.  His marriage
was over and he was free.  Paul did not know what made him do what he did.  He wanted to worry and take care for his children.  He wanted to make it possible for his wife to have a positive new start in Australia. A new beginning.  He did yet know, what would lie ahead, but he believed, that everything would run smoothly and healthy for every one. Insulted women become very hard and greedy.  In the coming years Paul had to again and again money together, to transfer it to Australia.  For the first three years he sent more then he earned. So he sold his share in the house, which he had inherited from his mother. The money went on top on what he had already sent without one word to Australia. Paul did not care. Money did not frighten him.  Sometimes he thought: 'Now I know what Anne meant, when she said I am a poor man.' But he had earned his own money since he had been sixteen years old, so he did not bother. Sure, often he had to sit down and calculate for hours how to do it and how to survive for himself. But it always - somehow worked out for all of them. He felt he had the power, he was healthy. He had the liquor under control. He was an Aquarius with a strong Leo. Just about Iza, the singer, he was not able to talk.  In that night, when his Merc took him further and further away from what was once his life, he wondered why. 


CHAPTER SEVEN

When Paul arrived in Essen and moved into his room in the Mövenpick Hotel, it was seven ó clock in the morning.  Paul was wide-awake.  He had told Anne, that the children could ring him from the airport. That would be around eleven ó clock.  What the hell should he do? He did not know, whether Iza - the singer, he could not talk about, whether she came to Essen today or not. He only was allowed to ring her at her home after  nine ó clock.  When her family had left the house. He switched on the television and ordered breakfast to the room. Absent-mindedly he unpacked his Laptop and opened his private program. Nobody but him knew the Password for it.  Too many mysteries were hidden in this file.   Too many dreams, too many longings.  But also too much fear.  He clicked on file open and pushed the cursor to the end of the document.  What had he really written in the past?

Warsaw - 2.2.1992:
The pope - incarnation of God's fart. 
The Polish pope - diarrhea after sharply seasoned Krakauer sausages. 
Catholics - Hopeless.
God - my exhaustion after each act of creation. 

"Exactly" Paul thought.  "That was, when Iza was so sour, because I did not want to go to church with her."  
Paul spoke frequently to himself since quite a long time. He  was much too alone too often. Sat around in for in hotel rooms and waited.  Spoke with nobody. Only waiting for the twenty minutes with Iza.  In Vienna, in Mannheim, in Warsaw, in Munich, in Dusseldorf, in Gelsenkirchen and now, once again once in Essen.   Waiting, waiting,   waiting.  Why was he not able to tell the  damned story?  What blocked him?

Vienna - 14.4.1992
Believe - that the world revolves around herself. 
Hope - that the dupes go mad and finally become clever. 
Love - Polish ice on a stick. 

"Vienna" Paul thought.  In Vienna everything was always fine.  Iza of course had rehearsals and performances there, but also a lot of time for him. They went on long walks in Schönbrunn.  They went to eat.  They even met friends there. In Vienna they were able to behave as if everything would be totally normal. 

Amsterdam - 1.5.1992:
I told the wind to stroke you. 
I told the night accompany you.
I told the mist to be around you 
like my arm on the way home. 
Over the moonlight 
I want to climb into your dreams 
and in the morning
your hand should  still be warm.
From mine. 

In Amsterdam they had a terrible quarrel.  Iza insisted to see a Live Sex show. For Paul that was painful.  Since his time with the Stripteasdancer in Wuppertal he though of those shows as rather stupid.  But Iza had never seen anything like that. What ever she tried, Paul remained stubborn and so the journey back to Essen was very silent. When they arrived in Essen, Iza could not wait to get to Paul's room. She made love to him that night like a true, roman catholic, polish whore. With powerful Passion and - love?   The little poem, which he had called Amsterdam, Paul had found in some old book one day and written down after Iza left that night. He never gave it to her. It was the first time, that Paul had written down something, without handing it to the person, it was meant for. The little poem seemed to be too precious.  He did not want to waste it and so he waited for the right time. Perhaps he would never give it to her. Perhaps he would give it to no one. 
In deep thoughts he typed - 12.5.1992 airport - Frankfurt. The present date. The departure date of his children and his wife.  The beginning of a new life?  What kind of life.  Really a new life?  Why could he not tell the story? What in the world stopped him. What kept his breath? What blocked his normal ability to speak?  He did not know, what he should write under the date. He sat in front of the computer, helplessly staring at the date. And then he wrote: 

2 pairs of  helpless children's eyes. 
1 pair of  lachrymal sacs. 
1 pair of  glacier eyes.
4 trunks
and no assassination.

Suddenly it was clear to him why Anne did not want him to come to the airport. She wanted to protect herself and the children.  She even wanted to protect Paul.  She wanted to make sure, that the way she had to go was save and sound. She was clever. Very clever.  And she apparently really loved him. In this moment the telephone rang.  His children were at the other end of the line.   The conversation was short, almost painless.  He wished them a good journey and said how he would miss them.  Yes and that he would soon follow them.  He hung up, after many kisses and hugs, Paul was facilitated. For the first time in a long while he finally felt free. 


It knocked and Iza stormed in. Her face was blushed and she had obviously drunk a bit too much. She sat down on a chair, not bothering to take off her hat and coat. Her hands were cramped into each other. 
"What's the matter?" asked Paul softly and kissed her nape.  Iza
had sat down in front of the mirror.  She spoke to him through the mirror. 
'What a strange picture.' Paul thought. 'I have to try that on stage once.'
"You must go back to your wife."
"Too late. Her plane just took off."
"Still. Fly too."
Iza had this tone of voice quite often. She could be very rigorous and thereby sometimes became somewhat impatient. 
"What happened? Look, I am here. Everything is all right. Everything is good. Come on, tell me."
Paul noticed, how she cramped her hands.  She drove her nails into her palms as if she wanted to rip herself apart. 
"I went to confess."
"Oh my God."
"The priest told me, that I may not touch you any more. Then I will be forgiven."
"Iza, you can't really mean that. How do you want to see that through? Not touch me? You love me."
"Yes, Paul, I love you.  But I will not touch you. Never again. I know,  my punishment and penance is, that I will be unhappy.  But so must it be.  Go back to your wife. Please."

She was desperately unhappy.  Paul only looked at her through the mirror. Their eyes met and she softly shook her head.
"Don't look at me like that."
But Paul just looked at her. He did nothing.  He just looked at her. Iza's hand were almost bleeding. She stared at Paul with a
despair, which he had never seen before.
"Don't look like that, Paul."
"You can go back to confess tomorrow," joked Paul. "You can go 
every day to the confession.  The pope loves that.  You get a medal from the Vatican and will be a saint.  For a genuine polish woman like you the ultimate career."
"Don't joke about this," said Iza, but in her eyes one could see a little smile. They looked at each other for a long time. Then Iza shook the head, took off her hat, threw her coat over a chair and attacked Paul as if she would drown. For two long, sweet hour the made love, without pausing, as if being totally lost. There was nothing, what would have been strange or not allowed.  After this
act of passion Paul and Iza knew each other inside out.  When Iza returned from the shower and quickly got dressed, Paul asked: "When do I see you again?"
"Always," came the prompt answer. She finished dressing and  kissed him long  delicately.  Then she took his face in both hands, looked at him and said: "Do you know how much I love you, you man from the other world?" 
With that she put her hat on and walked , waving, through the corridor. 

Paul only now noticed,  that his Laptop was  still on.  Exactly like this it was going on between them since over six months now. Why was he not able to tell the story? He sat down  and began to write.  He read what he wrote and deleted it. Nothing made sense.  Then he typed:
The fairy tale of the man from the other world.
"The fairy tale of the man from the Other world.  Why am I starting to write fairy tales now? She said, the man from the other world. Well, let's see what this will be."
And he began to write like he always did.  Without thinking.  Simply letting his thought run wild. 

Once upon a time, not very long ago, there was a man. It could have been a woman, or even a child, but it was a man. He was not 
different - he also was not really from an other world - it only  appeared to be so - because he was thinking - because he just was a little different than all the other gray standard men around him. In situations, when a real man never would show his tears, he cried. He cried  - because he honestly meant it and just did not want to be a real man - but because the Other man  - the Other woman - the one opposite was so important to him. That's why everyone  automatically called him the man from an other world.  His world, however,  was not different, she only  was tight - tender patient -  listening -  not calculating - simply his world.  He always wanted, that everybody  around him should be able to participate - should enjoy - cheerfully and freely - without fear and without bad conscience, his world. This man traveled through the world, met many people, made them happy through his bare present and soft touch  and endlessly unhappy at the same time.   When he left a place,  he left behind a strange void - as if the sound of the music suddenly did not want to sound any more. But again  and again he left walking on further and further into the direction of  an other world, to where nobody wanted to follow him.  One day, this man from an other world met a woman  - and this woman was from one
completely different world.  This woman was strong - not anxious - this woman was independent - never dependent - this woman  was young and old at the same time, whereby the being old had  nothing to do with transitoriness, but with a deep knowledge of the  possibility and feasibility of the life.  She suspected her power, but was not yet sure about it. This woman  had  a great talent - but she did not believe in it,  for talent was a gift she could not create herself  and she wanted to be in charge of everything at all times, to be sure, that she was in control. This woman was a girl - so innocent and full of hope, but she did not want to admit, that she was aware of her own mystery. She was a woman - as inviolable as an Edelweiss, which  through its naive beauty, bars the climber in the steep rock the life saving last step. The climber rather climbs back, than crushing the Edelweiss, to save his own life. However,  one day, it was inevitably - that the man from an other world and this woman, who still was a girl,  met each other.   For the first time since long time, to man began to  fight.  It was  difficult for him,, for he did not like to fight. However,  through the coincidence of meeting the woman, he started to fight against himself -  against his environment - against lies and betrayal, vanity, stubbornness, arrogance, against all the things, which he always had hated. The man from the other world had obligations, huge responsibility - important goals.  All this suddenly appeared void and unimportant to him. He knew - he only could breathe freely, if he yielded the new feeling, if he admitted it, if took all the responsibility for it, if he simply gave his whole being to the wind, let himself fall and float - in firm trust that everything was right and good. 

He fought with all force against this new world, which closed in on him so unexpectedly, like a thunderstorm in the winter.  He searched for shelter in his power, but his power said:  No - with this you must deal personally. But how to deal when ones hands are tied so desperately? He dreamt himself to this foreign woman, he pictured the most uncanny situations, he jumped in wild dreams  - tormented  - screamed for her and nobody  heard him. 

Part 2

Once - the night was especially bad -  there he  saw himself  getting into his car and drive through wind and rains, mists and snow, into her direction. It took him a long time, but finally he arrived. It was very  late, but still early enough - he knocked, a   man opened the door and the man from the other world could only say:  I am the foreigner.  May I enter? And the man at the door was so amazed, that he let him in. The foreigner took off his coat and said:  May I speak with the children?  And the man of the house nodded quietly.  And so the foreigner went into the living room, where two children were gathered around the television, knelt  down in front of them and said:  I am the man who makes you fear.  And the little boy looked confidently into the mans eyes and whispered:  I am not scared of you, for my mother has saved me from the drowning and she always will save me. And the little girl whispered:  I can swim, - because I trust my mother. So man from the other world  knelt in front of the children and spoke to them. He told them about far away countries, about people and animals, about the many things he so much loved. About scents, mysteries, adventures, fairy tales and about his dreams.  And the children looked at him, understood him and had no fear.  The father of the children stood at the living room door and observed the foreigner speaking to his children.  He wanted to rage,  but no evil feeling awoke in him. He  only stood there, watched his children and the foreigner and he started to understand, that his life changed. The woman came from the kitchen, she had heard the doorbell ring and knew, suspected who had arrived. She saw the foreigner kneel in front of her children, saw her children's trust for the man,  saw her husband,  who stood,  so helplessly,  at the door, wanted to be frightened, wanted to rage  and be upset, but she could not. She strangely quiet. Never she had thought, or hoped,  that the man from the other world one day would really  emerge from the mist of her dreams and step into her real life. That he simply would be there - without a big fuzz, without tears, without a big fight. That he would kneel before their children, telling them stories of  life and friendly shaking her husband's hand. She was scared, that her husband's unique polish temper and his half black Karate - Dan  perhaps might lead into a terrible carnage. But nothing  happened.  There the foreigner knelt in
their living room - her husband sat on the sofa, the children unpacked their and showed them to the foreign man, everything was completely normal - peaceful - without fear and hate.  The man from an other world got up and said:  I must go now. But the woman answered: No. Do stay and have dinner with us. Sit at one table with us.  And she looked over to her husband and he nodded sadly, but not intimidated.  Somehow everything appeared as if it were totally normal, so normal and right, as it only can be in a dream. And so the man from an other world ate with the family. .  Shortly before the dessert he said: I  do have a name too. He told them his name, they all nodded and repeated it. Then the dinner was over, and them man from an other world, who now even had a name, said good bye politely. He left as quietly as he had come. The children went to bed, said their evening prayer and were somehow happy. The parents sat around the kitchen table and spoke to each other through the whole night, without a sign of tiredness. Both knew,  that not a stranger had penetrated their security. They knew, the man from the other world, which now also had a name,  had, this man had come and he stayed with them 

Part 3

Suddenly the foreigner woke up. He was dripping with sweat and remembered his strange dream instantly. He almost got into panic, for he knew not exactly, whether he had only dreamt, or if he really had visited the family in the far away gray concrete city. He was terribly scared, because he had promised the woman, never ever to disturb her private life. He got up and wandered around in the room . He had no cigarettes left, but did not care about. He tortured his brain,  trying to find out more about his strange dream and the doorbell rang. He was at a place, where no one was able to find him. Especially not at four ó clock at night.  He opened the door and there she was. Totally out of breath, as if she had run the whole long way to him, confused but still happy. The woman from his dream. She only said: I have to come into your other world. He took her by the hand and drove with her to the place, where his own two children were waiting for them.  And as they
arrived, two little girls jumped into their arms and called out:   How beautiful  that you are finally here.   And the woman, who really came  from an other world, who even spoke an other language, this woman knelt down and told the girls, in her native language. The long story of her encounter with the man from an other world.  Although the children did not understand her words, they comprehended the story with their hearts. At the doorstep, the wife of the man from an other world, fought with her tears and understood. 

Bright sunlight flooded through the windows and the man from the other world was found, narrowly ducked  in a corner of a foreign hotel room and finally knew, that he really just had wildly dreamed throughout the whole night. He cowered in his corner, winked into  the radiating light.  He counted the seconds, the minutes, longed for the woman, who he had found, tormented himself with thoughts about the woman he perhaps would have to leave behind and despite the many questions he felt great and happy. The fairy tale of the man from the other world.  It is no
fairy tale - it is as true as the time - sure - it is difficult, but also the
dog in his dreams learned one day to fly and the so much loved wild duck was finally able to understand him. So many stories the man from the other world had told in his life. It was time, that the stories and fairy tales finally became true.  And so he packed he few belongings, paid the hotel bill, got into his car and drove  home, wherever that might be.  He drove through the rain, through snow and ice.  The mists cleared and he saw completely clearly, that in his heart was enough space for responsibility and love.  He loved his children, as one could love only children, he loved his dear wife, like one only could love a person, who was much more than only the wife of the man from the other world.  But, completely differently, newly and indelibly, within   each fiber of his heart, the love for that  foreign woman burnt. The love for the woman he had met when the time was not right. An ecstasy may clear like fog in the sun, but true love stays. He knew, that he would come home one day - to the woman from the foreign country - who never said kocham cie, but always thought it. The woman, who lay at night , like him too, wide awake  and burnt.  Who was longing like himself and hoping that everything would be all right for them one day. And as he drove he screamed into the howling wind:  I do not want to survive life - I want to live it!
For a long time Paul stared at the words he just had written. Very long.  He read the story again and again and suddenly felt chilly.   'Part two,' he thought. 'Part two is the truth today. But not part one and not part three. That is not Iza. There is someone else. But who? I project that on Iza.  But it is not her. She would come to see my children. She would let me into her house , but she never would search for me.'

Swearing he shut the Laptop.
"You fool," he screamed at his reflection in the bathroom mirror. "Idiot! Zombie. Arshole. You always just write what you never will do in reality. Do it finally.  Dear Iza! Brake her out of her family. Make her an atheist  and happy.  Don't just write it. Do it. Stop grumble, to ponder, to insult, to stamp out. Live what you write. Dump her!"

Frightened Paul stopped to scream.  Dump Iza? Leave her? No.  Never.  She was - well - what was she?  Who was she? Part two - but not part one and three.  And Paul decided, to fight for Iza and turn her into part one and three of his fairy tale about the man from the other world. 

CHAPTER EIGHT

In August it everything got out of hand. Iza suddenly  had disappeared in July. After endless scenes with her husband, in front the hotel in Gelsenkirchen.  The poor man sat for hours on the edge of a fountain and waited, until his disloyal came out of the hotel, where she gave in, totally against her polish pride, to the lust she had for that windy Austrian. That his tears were  visible did not bother the man from Krakow. He sat there, at his           fountain, sometimes  a compassionate waiter brought him a       cup of cafe.  He sat there and waited.  There was not much talk about 'Love in a Hotel' any more. Again and again Iza screamed in fury despair: "Stop dreaming, Paul!"
"Only Roman Catholics can do that," poisoned Paul the air. 
And so Iza disappeared. 

For the first time in his life he learned, what gall tasted like. He had an assignment in Switzerland for the summer. One day        the telephone rang in room and at the other end the missing whispered: "Can you come to Gelsenkirchen?  We must bring that to a decent end."

 And Paul chased off. There they sat, like two lost souls, who finally had found each other, but never gained the courage to live it. With tears in her eyes Iza handed a small box to Paul. The Bosnian waiter served Slibowitz. 
"Take your pearls back.  They strangle my throat. I have already burnt your letters," aspirated the beautiful polish woman and    Paul not sure any more, if the whole incident was nothing more than a gala performance of the Masuren art of acting. 
"The pearls belong you, Iza.  Only to you."
But they were so expensive and you need the money.
"I don't need money.  What  I need, no money can buy."
You remained silent for a long time on that afternoon in Gelsenkirchen. Paul had the feeling, he would remain dumb for ever. He, who in the weirdest situation  had yet another unexpected trick in store, he now was totally helpless.  After hours Iza got up, took the pearl necklace, which was made of two strains of white and three strains of black pearls, put it around her neck and said heroically: "And if I suffocate on them. Be good to yourself."

Iza was gone. Paul did not know at the next morning, how he had got back to his Hotel.  At breakfast the waitresses giggled and so he decided, to inquire at the reception. The upright, Bosnian waiter had brought him. Paul had no memory of that. Once again  he paid a Hotel bill, got into his car and raged across the Autobahn - once again into the wrong direction - to Switzerland. Paul had produced a new musical there and now took care of the running performances. Keep Cool the musical was called ingeniously. Paul lived in a noble hotel in Upper Ägeri, directly at
the lake. He loved to  observe the native vacationers on the private beach, who threw all communicated with their primeval          sounds, which they called language. Swiss - five hundred years of an isolation syndrome.  Five hundred years peace and prosperity.  What one simple Rütli oath can do to a whole nation. The author and star of the production was a quite well known Swiss Comedian.  Paul had not yet found out, what was so funny about this little, nose dwarf from Graubünden. But the show ran very successfully  and since even seemed to make money. The Keep Cool - too well fed to be able to belch. 

Iza was gone. So nothing was important anyhow. In the fall,  Paul had to go back to Munster. The Dangerous Liaisons were waiting there for him.  Right after the premiere, he was supposed to start with the rehearsals for his very own, new little musical for children. The Theatre of Munster, which presented itself only as town office forty-six. With an Artistic Director, who actually was nothing else but a glossy Xerox copy of his own vanity. Alas yes - the Achim.  A genital beneficiary of nonsense.  Through him Paul often had the feeling that he finally had comprehended, what masturbation was - the attempt to satisfy Artistic Directors. For Paul himself satisfaction always had been to not give in because one is scared. And fear was only to be conquered by dreams. And dreams? The only possibility to look into the eyes of reality. 

Masturbation, satisfaction, fear, dreams, reality?  What did that count for, in those muggy August days, with the powerful heat storms. Iza was gone. Sometimes, when he was, like every evening, the last guest in the night club of the hotel, the girl behind the bar said to him: "Give me a kiss." And Paul always had the feeling, to kiss himself. Love affairs, without the feeling of danger. In Munster
there was waiting an actress, who Paul had to fight with hand and fee. Not because he did not want to have anything to do with her, but because he did not want to want anything from her. Too           easy the decline into the abyss and the question, who created whom, would be too easily answered. "I'd love to be Eliza Doolittle," he always hummed into his plum Schnapps, when he thought of the actress and the band from and the band from Tschechien played Strangers in the Night.  He wanted to write a           book. 'Annoyed speeches of endured men', should be its title.  Why had Iza not endured him, why was she unable to hold him? For Iza he had actually thrown everything overboard, what had been important to him for so long. For the first time in  a long time, he had had the feeling to be able to fight for something again.   But he had lost the fight.  Well, but perhaps a lost battle sometimes is the biggest victory?

Forget.  Forget everything. Let go.  But he had not yet learned to let go of the memories and the generosity of an elephant. When  finally the last domestic Hotel guests had had dismissed themselves into their noble rooms, then Paul often sat with the personnel of the Grand Hotel  on the terrace of the bar. It was a colorfully mixed bunch of people. The Mixer came from the Ukraine, the two waitresses from Herzogovina, the band from Tschechien and the headwaiter was from Tyrol. They philosophized, while the boss, a true Swiss from Hungarian descent,  checked the cashiers. 
"Nothing remains and is still always there.  I am ingenious. I know - one and one is two.  Or?"
"Does one make good money with Theatre?"
"Money - the possibility to fool yourself." 
"Then I fool myself now and count my money," replied the owner of the Hotel then and dismissed himself. The Ukrainian Bar mixer had fallen totally in love with the Lead-singer of the band and always strolled with her down to the beach, when their boss finally was gone. The season was soon over, and the poor waiter still could not understand, that a beautiful singer from Tschechien, who was married to the drummer and Bandleader and had three children with him, who holidayed with their Grandmother in Olmütz, while their parents earned the cash for the long wintertime in golden Switzerland, that such a wonder woman  would not follow a waiter from Ukraine to Venice in the fall in order to  make twins with him, just because he had promised that to his mother back in Russia. 

The older one of the two waitresses from Herzogovina had to lock up the bar. Often she gave Paul a last two-story plum schnapps on the long way to his room. Once she asked him, see through her application letters. She handed him her folder, in which she neatly kept all her letters. She went through them, letter by letter, together with Paul. Moving. 
"There are people, who collect documents their whole life long," said Paul,, while looking through the papers.  documents, said Paul while looking through the many papers. "I only collect in my thoughts -  so no one can burn what I collect. And the           misunderstood feel suddenly understood, the total   misunderstanding.  Outside, in front of the door - yes!  Inside,  in the warm room - no! Only in deep conversation with Borchert."
Paul stirred in his Plum Schnapps and pushed the folder,           carelessly over the counter.
"You are great. Just go there, talk to them and they will understand who you are," he barked.
"I likes Wolfgang Borchert," said the girl with no name. "We had an Austrian teacher, he let us read Borchert.  The others had to read Schiller and Goethe. We were allowed to hear Borchert."
"Brilliantly.  A  waitress from Herzogovina with an expected carrier at Hotel Kempinski in Berlin knows who Wolfgang Borchert is.  What does that make of my ingenuity?  I shall have to correct it." growled Paul and the waitress took her folder and said cheerfully:
"Let me correct your ingenuity."
And that she did for the rest of the night and the whole next day long. She was so cheerful and Paul let his Choreographer do his work, while he leisured with the gorgeous girl. Paul suddenly had to think about his Lady Caroline - he remembered and         reminded and ascertained, that she was like Iza. They all were like           Iza.  And Paul longed to be back in Munich. Start all over again.         Make all mistakes once again, but now consciously and with double tempo.


CHAPTER NINE

The woman was standing on the doorstep. Blond and severely. Behind her  two gigantic children's eyes, as big as only a child's eyes could be. Almost absent-mindedly the woman stroked over the head of the small girl, which was hanging on her apron. The man stood in front of her - unable to speak, he shrugged his shoulders and could not meet the woman's eyes. Softly it began to snow.  Strange heavy music hung over the scene.  The woman. did not weep.  Dumb she examined the man in front of her door. Her  hands wove, unconsciously, small, helpless plaits  into the hair of the girl, who still hung big eyed on her apron. Over the music arose a heavy, dark voice and spoke words, which sounded like music. 'And she looked at the man, her husband and did not recognize him any more - this man , whom she looked for in him, whom she suspected, supposed in him. For a moment she thought - I am scared. The she took him by his hand and for the first time she saw only him. He let his shoulders relax and thought - good - very good. I am at home.'

"Shit!" roared a pigtailed, nickel frame spectacel-waerer. in second last row of  the almost empty cinemas.  On screen it now was snowing more and more and  out of the he snow slowly grew the credits, while the music increased intolerably loudly, to show off the, evidently new, Dolby Sound System of the cinema. The couple from the eighteenth row , which  during the tormenting long two hour of the film, had clamped to each other as if they were chilly,  shook their heads and proceeded to the exit.  The pigtailed man  rioted further in the second last row. What for? The very young girl from the cinema tore open all the exits, as if the cinema would have been fully booked. 
"Shit, shit, shit. Bullshit!" screamed the braid. Then, all the sudden, he pulled up his shoulders and stormed, with a purple red face, past the girl at the exit. As he was running, he looked like the man from the end of the film. Paul had to laugh involuntarily.  Since some time he had made it a custom, to see each film up to the bitter end.  At the Theatre he still had not conquered this task. But he was still able to learn. So he sat, in the now in empty cinema and stared at the unrolling titles on the screen. " Jesus, what kind of expense.  So many people for a little art movie." 

The last names disappeared in the blizzard and suddenly the camera moved to a window.  Through the snow one saw the man sit on a kitchen chair, the small girl sat on his lap and showed him a picture book.  The woman stood at the stove and cried.  The snowflakes met the window and began to melt. A weeping window and suddenly the screen empty.   
"Ups"  Paul thought. 
"Kitsch as kitsch can."  But he still kept seated.  Through the exit doors streamed bright sunlight. The dust danced and
the very young cinema assistant all the sudden looked delightfully beautiful.  When Paul had decided to go to the movies, it was pouring with rain. Paul always went to the movies in the afternoon. It was like a principle.  He did not want to stand in line and cue for a ticket in the evening. And he did not like to sit beside some one he did not know. He wanted to concentrate on the film and on nothing else. 
"You there - the next performance start in a sec."
The broad Bavarian accent  the girl sported let all the beauty fall off her. There she stood, chewing a gum. The obligatory headphones of a Walkman  over the ears and possibly over her eyes too. In the back light she had been delightfully beautiful and dumb.  Speech destroys.

Paul gathered his plastic bag and left.  He tried to give the girl one deep look into her shallow eyes, but she swayed in the arms of  Cliff Richard. Winking Paul stepped on the street.  The Gullies still  gargled softly and the sidewalks were steaming. He thought, ' damned weathers" and took the street to the News Cafe. One more Espresso, a Cognac, ten cigarettes and then quickly catch the 
train to Münster.  Back to the clink. Scenic rehearsals with a horde of rebellious young actors, who had no idea about anything, but knew everything, what otherwise nobody was interested in.  Some of these wild young ones were  of course just a few years younger then he him, thirty-nine was hardly old age, but that bunch in Munster behaved themselves as if they would be centuries younger then Paul.  No one could tell Paul anything about the art of acting. He firmly believed, that he had been and still was an excellent actor. But already when he was twenty-four the life of just acting had become a real torture for him. Even then he wanted to take over real responsibility and betrayed thereby his big dream to be an actor. His grandfather had once taken him along to the Salzburg Festival to see 'Jedermann'. After the performance they went to  the cinema to see a Russian version of  Hamlet. So Paul's grandfather, without any suspicion, had triggered off  an addiction within him. Alas Gustl, the poor lumberjack lad from the Bohemian forest, who had made it into the position of  managing director of the  state printing-offices in Tschechien and who then, at the end of the war, landed in the Concentration Camp - in a Czech one. In spite of that, the clever Gustl soon after opened up his own printing-office  in the golden West of Germany.  "One must add up fifty and fifty correctly and it will make hundred and fifty." Like this he obviously had taught the  American occupying forces in Günzburg in the year 1947 the art of counting. The clever Gustl, who could tell the most beautiful fairy tales. For hours the children lounged with open mouths around him and heard his version of  Ice Princess and the Giant from bohemia. Then, in 1958, he owned already two printing offices - in Günzburg and Tübingen and he had the monopoly on printing the labels, for the one and only matches which were sold in Austria, Switzerland and West Germany. 
"Espresso and double Cognac, Mr. Liver?"
Lena stood in front of Paul and smiled maliciously. 
"I know - I am an alcoholic and worth nothing and altogether and still!"
"But still so dashing and male. A Remy,  or the cheap one?"  
Lena could laugh horribly rumbling.  If one ordered with her, the whole restaurant knew what was up. Kurt, the owner of the News Cafe did not like that at all, but Lena was his asset, in any  relationship. Kurt's acid face hovered over the cake counter. 
"Lena - down and quiet and come!"
"I do not come always, but always more often - with you."  
Lena could, as nobody else, set pauses. Sometimes, when Paul was very tired, he sent actors and singers to Lena. He called that visual  instruction. Timing.  He had worked his whole life long to find the right timing. Like a maniac he had studied the slapstick movies of the thirties and forties. But Anglo Sachsen humor was difficult to enforce in his field. Paul was very popular everywhere - which means everyone hated him. Paul always had appeared  somewhat cocky.  The Pseudologism of his early years had put forth the wildest blossoms. There were striped children, which he had procreated with black princesses from Uppervolta. The princess herself was for real, but not the child. Or the countess of Stolberg had dinner served only after he, Paul, had taken his seat.  Not when dear Otto - the last and only emperor of Austria, once again had managed to creep through the heavy border controls to Tyrol. No, he, Paul, the beloved, when he was sitting. Paul's family had with the Habsburg family approximately as much to do, as the English Royal Family with 
decorum.  The border official  of Tyrol, they had decorum.  There existed this mad entry prohibition for the successor to the throne, Otto,  and so he had to enter without permission. That was easiest via the Lake Achen at Tyrol's border to Bavaria. There stood  the upright and tight Tyrolian border officials, with their  hands at the seams roared: "Imperial highness.  Cordially welcome at home."
And the Otto, the unwanted emperor,  always nodded mercifully.   His graciousness came from inside, Paul once had learned from one of the valiant border officials.  

Therefore Paul, when he felt mercifully himself , at times would casually drop the fact, that he originated from the house of Habsburg himself. Of course from a small, unknown, impoverished side branch, which was extremely proud of the fact, to have taken away the title "of" back in 1920, just to be allowed to be henceforth modest normal citizens.  Who else should have been able to take car of the old family castle, then the rich Austrian state.  No, no - it was really better like that. That the name of the family and their castle was Chaffhill, nobody seemed to find awkward. Even in Munich, no one came to the conclusion, that Chaffhill may be a hint for the reality of chaff in Paul's story.   
Yes, Paul was a world champion in the pulling ones leg in these days. 

"Once short black, two cognacs, one for you, one for me.  Ex and Gone."  
Lena emptied her glass in one go, grasped into the pocket of her apron, produced a brownie and put it besides Paul's cup. 
"Greetings to the liver, Mr. Liver. That will be twelve Marks, I am off duty now."
Paul had given up to wonder about Lena since a long time. She still was angry with him, because of one single night twelve years ago. They had celebrated a wild opening night party at the News Cafe and Paul, as so often was the last guest and suddenly alone with Lena in the Cafe.  On the next morning he could have smacked himself for his stupidity. He left her flat wit the most ridiculous sentence of good bye since the invention of stupidity.
"Now I have finally, once again, nurtured my passion for the ordinary. Making love the missionary's way has got something to it."
Lena had wept terribly and did not serve him at the Cafe for two years thereafter. Then Paul did not come to Munich for a long time and after he returned to the News Cafe almost ten years later, he was greeted by Lena in her special way:
"You lay down and never get up again - his highness, the Sir of Liver. Handkiss, I'm your servant maid. Do you know the newest gossip? The ability of a woman to experience an orgasm, is demolished by having sex in the missionary's way to absolute insensitiveness of the woman. Your opinion pleas, Earl of Liver."
Wit bloodshot face Paul quickly had left the restaurant.  However, 
since then they at least talked to each other again.  And when  Lena was happy, one could learn very much from her.  But today, Lena was not very happy. Suspiciously he examined  the brown cookie she had given him. It smelled like chocolate, probably was made of chocolate. But with Lena one never could know. Sometimes she secretly dished out Cannabis cookies with the  coffee.  That lifted the turnover of the restaurant and  the mood of its customers exceedingly.  Lena herself  swore, that she never had, or would do anything else but liquor and nicotine.   She handed out the Cannabis Cookies only to amuse herself. She loved to laugh out happily and loudly. Almost  like grandmother. Paul never had got to know his grandparents on his fathers side.  But his Albert, the older brother of his father, it often had told Paul about 'Mams'. 'I should write that story down once,' Paul thought. He looked at his watch and discovered, that he still had a  good two hours till the departure of his train.  
"May I have some paper?"  he called out to Kurt.  He came
sullenly with a block and  Paul began to write like a maniac. He still was only able to write this way. Without thinking, without planning.  Simply let the thoughts and memories run free. Without a plan and without an obvious goal. Like this he had written his Plays, his Musicals, like this he even wrote his love letters. His letters were still the only truth for him. He believed firmly in what he wrote. But since Iza had disappeared from his life, he lived,  with great pleasure,  exactly the contrary.

"Mams" he wrote in big letters on top of the page and started his story. 

On the 12th February 1922 it had snowed the whole day long.  The clouds hung heavily and hoary in the mountain valleys.  Since the middle of  December it was stone cold and the snowfalls did not want to stop. For the rich people down in the state capital that was no problem. They had their servants chop the wood and lay at night under thick Eiderdunas. But here, half up the mountains, directly at the Bettelwurf, right beside the entrance to the Hall Valley, there were no servants and there was also no wood, which they would have been able to chop.  Agnes Liver sat with her sons Alois and Hannes at the kitchen table.  She had pulled the table closely to  the stove, so that the little ones at least did not have to freeze too much.  Yesterday, when she quickly had to change Hannes' diaper, the milk soup on the table was half frozen, when she finally was finished. Today they had  broth, although it was not Sunday. She had cooked a piece of  beef for her Luis.  Luis, her husband, was expected home from the Hall Valley this evening. Due to the bad weather he was held up at the salt mine for over two weeks. It was too dangerous to descend to the bottom of the Valley through  the more then two meter high snowdrifts. There one risked his neck. But today the Jockel had dropped by and told her , that her Luis had to go to a meeting at the mining office in Innsbruck, because of the wages of the workers and that he would come home this evening. She was so happy about this news that she had decided, that today was a Sunday. The four-year-old Alois just helped the two-year old Hannes to break the bread into the soup, as it knocked at the door. Agnes leaped up from the table.
"The father. Father is here." 
Quickly combed the two boys' hair, took off her apron and smoothed her the dress over her already heavy stomach.  In June their third child was due to be born. She was happy about this, despite the many troubles which she had to conquer up here at the entrance to the valley. She was as happy about this new child as she was with her two other ones. But most happy she was with her husband. Luis, the Tyrolian , who worked himself with tenacity to  the Technical College Vienna, to become a mining engineer.  The poor farmer kid with the unruly will.  It was him, with his black curls and the bushy walrus moustache, who had directly walked up to her at the may-dance in the Vienna's' Prater and simply said:
"I am the Luis from Tyrol and you are the most dashing girl in all of Vienna. Only with you I want to dance!" 
And she had been absolutely speechless and had looked suspiciously at the man in the short leather trouser which he wore so proudly as others wear their one tail coat.  My God, the knees, his sun tanned knees, she never had enough looking at them. For these knees she had gladly given up her career in the medical profession. She was a night nurse in the emergency unit of the central hospital. An exhausting way to earn your bread and only girls from Bohemia seemed strong enough to fit in.  
At the next evening she had kissed completely spontaneously Professor Wildgruber.  He had given her a free evening because she looked so pale and overworked. The Professor thought she had earned herself a little bit of fresh air scented with lilac which was in full bloom in May. The Professor was not at all happy about the kiss. 
You fell in love, didn't you? What a stupid mutton I am. Letting you have a night off  just so that you can fall in love. And with whom?"
"With Luis!"  
She had said that completely quietly and softly smiling.  
"With Luis?  What kind of Luis?"  the professor had asked. 
"The Luis from Tyrol."
"From Tyrol?! Are you out of your mind, Sister Agnes? You fell in love with an Andreas Hofer? Didn't you know that they are all cannibals those Tyrolian? They love their freedom so very much that they don't care about nothing else. Especially they will not care about girls from Bohemia at all. The Tyrolian. There she falls in love with a Tyrolian. Well, I believe we will have to search for a new night nurse quite soon."

And that was exactly the fact. Immediately after Luis had finished his studies with a diploma in mining engineering he had found a position in the Saltmine of his hometown Hall. And with this bright future giving him a lot of courage he had asked her if she would come along with him to Tyrol as his wife. And she had looked into his funny eyes and laughed. She had laughed so vehemently that her stomach mussels still were sore a week later.   She had laughed that hard out of sheer happiness and Luis had seen that. And so she had arrived in Eichach, the little village right at the entrance to the Hall valley, right at the foot of that giant of a mountain which looked like dropping right into the window when the mistral made everything twice as big as in reality. But Agnes was happy when her Luis was with her. No other man had made  her smile  so cheerfully. As a night nurse it was her who had to make sure that the patients cheered up. Now Luis had been up in the mine for to endlessly long winter weeks. In the summer it was not so bad. Quite often she asked the her neighbor, the farmers wife, to look after the little ones and then, like a young deer, she ran up the steep valley road to meet up with her Luis. At the sharp corner at the Bettelwurf-corner she always released a yodel, so that  Luis knew that she was coming. The most beautiful hours of their marriage they had spent up there at the edge of the wood. The high star dome was their shelter and Luis always had to press his strong brown hand on her mouth because she love to scream happily in with ultimate pleasure. However, there was a lot of deer in the wood and it made enough noise to let a wanderer think that nature was having a ball. The last two weeks ad been very hard for Agnes. The baby in her stomach gave her a lot of trouble and the winter nights were so endlessly long and dark that she often lay wide awake, listening into herself and longing for her Luis. Sometimes mothermilk shot down her heavy breasts and she had to get up to dry herself. However, all the moving in her stomach and all the sorrows of the hard life at the edge of the mountain could not hinder the burning feeling between her legs.   But tonight she would not have to freeze with him on her side. She quickly tugged her blouse into position, hurried to the door and tore it open.
"Andrew,  what are you doing here?"
Behind Andrew she saw other men waiting under the frozen cherry trees. They carried torches and from the horses' nostrils climbed snow-white little clouds into the crisp winter night. 
"Agnes, we are bringing your Luis."
Wordlessly he gave the other men a sign and they lifted a black bag,  took it devoutly on their  shoulders and carried it past Agnes into the house. Agnes did not know what happened.  She only  saw
men, who dragged the bag past her past and thought how beautiful the horses looked with their little cloud hanging from their nostrils. Then a heavy hand grabbed her shoulder. 
"You know February avalange which come down every year at the Bettelwurf-corner. It came a bit early this year.  But so must it be.   Luis as always walked last in the line. I  only heard the rumble and when I looked back everything was white already. We have dug immediately, all of us, six hours long.  We found him.  Completely peacefully he was lying there. It almost looked like as he was still smiling. Probably he was thinking of you."
Silently nodding to Agnes the men walked past Agnes out of the house. 
"He has said, he wanted to have more time with you. That's why we were on the way so early. The February avalange always comes in day time. He knew that and still wanted to go."
And off he walked with the others. Agnes stood like paralyzed on the door step. 
"Mama, cold!" Alois and the little Hannes called out and jumped around the black bag. Again and again they happily screamed:
"Daddy there."
And little Hannes grinned and smiled like he had learned it from his mother from his very first day on earth. Agnes took Hannes into her arms and weighed and rocked him gently. 
"Quiet, boy. Give me some peace. Don't be such a sweet and cute little rover!"
"Daddy?" answered Hannes.
"Yes, so much like your Daddy," said Agnes softly.
"Like the Daddy!"
A single tear ran down her cheek straight into Hannes mouth.   "Salty," said Hannes and laughed.  With his small hands he grabbed the face of his mother and licked the tear away. Nobody has seen Agnes cry again after this night.  Nobody.

The End Paul wrote under the last line. Thoughtfully he perused the last sentences and thought:
'My hard as rock father. The doctor with the magic hood. What a  
Joke.'  
He looked at his watch. It was five before seven.  He had to catch his train. Quickly he packed his belongings. He always traveled with very light luggage. In Munster he had felt caged this weekend. That's why he took the train to Munich. Ventilating he called that.  He left in such a hurry that he forgot Lena's small packet on the table.  On the short way to the station his father was chasing his mind. Dr. Liver still was working. As a Consultant for the state insurance and in his own Practice.  He was seventy-two.  The Rover.  He fought like a young God for his so much younger wife. Actually Paul and his father were quite similar. Paul also never wanted to retire. Paul also never wanted to become famous.  "Perhaps with eighty," he always said. "Then one loves me like they do adore George Tabori and then I can enjoy it. 
'Does my father enjoy his age? I have to ask him about that once,' thought Paul when he got on the train.


CHAPTER TEN

"How one loves?"  Paul asked back? "You do not know, how one loves?  You want to act in a play Dangerous Liaisons  and as me such a question?"
"You are the director, Paul.  It is your duty to answer such questions," replied Gert. He was a gigantic performer who was cast with the part of Valmont. A man like a painting. Gym trained and equipped with an endowed body. However ha was gay as hell. All the women always got damp eyes, when they saw him.  Gert came from the former east.
"I want to be as honest to you as I have not been in a long while," said Paul.  
"Ha, " it came from Gesche.  A dipso and a Romy Schneider look alike. Tall, loud, cordially and buddy like.  Apparently she came from a very rich family. They made their money with something like work clothes and third world products in Osnabruck.  However, obviously deeply unhappy with her twenty-eight years.  She was able to drink like a fish.
"Yes, Mrs. Treppenhof? Was that the rare  attempt of  an opinion? "  
Paul was famous for silencing a whole room with a few sharp remarks. Gesche bit her lips and something was glittering in the  corner of her eyes. But she shut up. 
"I am married for sixteen years," began Paul.
"And you are well known for your countless affairs," snapped  Gesche angrily.   
"Dearest Gesche, no need of fear for you there. I am not at the hunt at the moment."  
Paul leaned back and lit himself a new cigarette.  He was proud to smoke in every Theatre even if it was forbidden.  Of course he always had the five hundred Deutschmarks with him. That was the price if he was caught by the fire department.  However, he was a militant smoker and selfishly broke any law to please his addiction. 
"Gesche is right, " said Paul.  He suddenly spoke very softly and  his voice began to scratch.  That was new for him. Normally he always spoke with great vigor and gigantic pressure.  However, since a couple of months there were things happening in his life, which made him soft.
"I have loved my wife very much. At least that's what I thought.   I have put her on a platform and served her.  She was the most important thing in my life. But one day I stumbled across one of my notes from the earlier days. Little thoughts I every now and then write down. And there I read:
Sydney - July 1978
Wedding-night on the toilette.
The oysters do not want to remain with me.
They fee me. 
Like the woman sleeping in the honeymoon bed next door."

Paul looked into the round.  Everybody was silent.  Paul had an extremely quiet and intense kind of putting forward his stories. Probably he had inherited this from his grandfather.  He had always told his grand children fairy tales in seven parts.  Each evening for one hour. However,  Paul did not tell fairy tales any more.  He had lost his urge to tell stories in the last months. 
"Do you understand what I mean?"  he asked into in the round.
"Do you mean, your wedding-night you already realized that this would go wrong and you still stayed married so endlessly long?"
"Not endlessly," laughed Paul. "Only sixteen years up till now. I am still married.  Even though my wife now lives with the children now in Australia.  A rather far distance to keep in contact. On the telephone its hard to kiss someone good night."
"I think you take your life too easily." 
"Alas, for once you do have an opinion?  That is new."
"You.  ..! "
Foaming with rage Mrs. Treppenhof chased out of the rehearsal room. 
"You are really impossible, Paul," grumbled Grit. 
"Everyone gets the kind of me he or she deserves. She must get through this. How does she want to play Tourvelle if she has no clue how to do so? She finally has to admit something. This shallow nagging around, these buddy buddy drinking sprees are nothing else but hanging at the edge of the despair.  And she must give something from herself if she wants to play the part genuinely. Let her roar off  while I tell you a story - a true story about love.  The wonderful endless love."

There suddenly was Sarcasm in Paul's voice.  It became razor-sharp.  His eyes flashed and he spoke very sharply. 
"Love!  We all talk of it and have no idea what it really is.   Screwing and tinker around. Romantic set-up stories and marriage tragedies.  That has all nothing to do with love. I always firmly  believed that I really love my wife. My screwing around I always excused with trying to open up oysters. Today I sometimes wonder how I have was able to have two daughters.  But look so much like me that I must have been involved in their making. Love always attacks you in that one moment when you  feel secure for once. I had to direct an operetta in Essen.  Something you have to do when you are desperately alone and wildly on the search. Love. Dear.  I'll  tell you a story about love.  Love in Essen."


CHAPTER ELEVEN

Paul had taken on the production of an operetta in the city of Essen. He did not care much about it, but he had to do it. On the first days of rehearsals he only wanted to be finished with this dragging task as quickly as possible. His then affaire, the lovely actress from East Germany  was with him fort the first days. She was a wonderful gifted actress and he had worked on a previous production of Dangerous Liaisons with her. She had  relationship with her partner on stage, who was married to  a gypsy, who had become a star in the opera. She had some days off and he wanted nothing more than just spend as much time with her.  Around ten ó clock the first rehearsal began and only the diva was missing.  Paul, as always when someone was late, did not wait around and started his first speech. Suddenly the door was pulled open and the diva stormed in. What an entry. Huge fur-coat, fur-hat, Polish accent, bubbling eyes and a flood of long, black hair.

Paul sat at his table, speechless and with his mouth wide open.  He must have looked terribly habsburgian, since the ensemble started to giggle. 
"You must be the Maestro," chirped the diva.  
"And must be too late!" Paul barked back.
" Well and so what?  Did you start without me?"  
She greeted every singer with a little kiss on the left cheek and a little kiss right cheek, threw he  furcoat  carelessly on the floor and said Paul:
"Is not genuine fur. I would never do that. The poor sweet creatures. I like animals. Can we start now?" 
Paul had observed her the whole time.
'Damn. I must send my friend home,' he thought deeply amazed about himself. 'That goes wrong from the very beginning.'
He was almost relieved for he would have had to talk to her  very soon quite earnestly. About his wife and the children, who would come back from Sydney soon. She knew about his situation but still had com threatening closely to him lately.  She had discovered things in him he actually wanted to keep unknown to others. 

" Mrs. Diva, sit down you and learn something!"  Paul growled and began with his speech about the production. From the corner of his eyes the saw that the diva was in shock. However, she sat  silently with her colleagues and listened, without saying a word for two hours. She had no questions, only sat there, silently smiling.  At the end of the rehearsal Paul disclosed the time table for the next morning.
"Ten ó clock for Edwin and Silva.  On time."
Paul always needed some time, until he could remember the many new names. Well yes, with four to five musical Theatre production per year, there were many names to remember. The names of the parts the singers played were saver for him.  
"Oh, that is too bad. My airplane already leaves for Vienna about half past nine. I have a performance there.   Bye."
She threw the fur around her shoulders and roared off. 

The next two weeks passed bye like in the flight.  Not because the rehearsals were so creative, no, they were simply funny.  Paul had talked to his actress. It was a terrible night and Paul like always in such situations felt  like the last pig.  But what should he do? It could not work out. Therefore it was better to finish the relationship. The diva turned out to be the  true life and soul of the party. This woman was always in a good mood, always awake and concentrated, although she had go off to Vienna or Mannheim  three times a week and sing real difficult parts there.  Vienna
She did by plane, but to Mannheim she drove with her fast little Japanese toy. 
"I love racy drives" she always said.  
For Paul the world had turned upside down.  He felt drawn to this woman in a completely new kind of affection. He did not know
this feeling. Since a couple of days he carried a letter in his pocket.   He quarreled with himself whether he should leave it for her with the stage porter. Willi, his musical director, had told him that the Diva was married to a charming man and had two sweet children.   God, how Paul hated this word.  Charming.   He always pronounced this word as if it would mean shit. That much he loathed it.  For the evening a rehearsal was scheduled and Paul decided Paul to deposit the letter for the diva.  Secretly he called her deer.  He never ever had given someone a name of endearment. He hated it to be called darling, or baby, or sweetheart. He always had called his wife by her first name. Even with his daughters he refused any form of endearment.  But with at this Polish disaster he could not resist it. Secretly he also had realized that the jolly good polish diva was not completely unaware of moods. Sometimes, when she felt unobserved, her eyes drifted off into an endless distance. She then looked very beautiful and wonderfully sad.  He also did not know exactly what he had written in the letter to her. He only knew that he never ever had sent a letter like this to any other person. He gladly wrote letters since he once had written his first letter to Anne and his letters were always a splendid success. His letter, yes, they really were his true self.  On the way to the elevator Paul thought: 'I am in the shits now anyhow and stand like a Zombie on a very icy road.'

When Iza came into the opera-house, she was jolly as always. The doorman handed her mail to her and she was  already on the way to her wardrobe, when the jovial man called after her:
"There is a not from Mr. Liver for you."
He gave her the letter through the small window and Iza stood, as if she were lost  in thought on the staircase.
'Does he want to insult me, this Tyrolian? What kind of impertinence is he up to now?' she thought. 
Slowly she climbed up the stairs to her wardrobe.  Should she open the letter or read simply first read it  after the rehearsal?  But perhaps  it was only a change in schedule. She tore open up the  envelope and unfolded the sheet of paper inside.  There stood  the famous Iza Luda and  her whole body suddenly trembled.  She had to sit down because her knees  would not carry her anymore.   Again and again she read the few lines and could not
grasp it.

Dear Madam,
I know, I have no right to write to you. I do still do so, even though I know which situation you are in. We both  are married both, have children and love our partners.  However if this feeling is true, so I must express it to you.  I never ever in my whole life have felt such a wonderful warm and tender feeling for a person, like for
you.  Do forgive me. Destroy this letter.  Let us work on our production and I
promise, not to bother you any further.  Is that love?

Respectfully
Yours Paul Liver.

@@Iza looked at the clock.  She was a almost half an hour late for rehearsal. She wadded the letter, smoothed it again and again and put it into her vanity case.  Hastily she refreshed her lipstick  and ran to the rehearsal. The rehearsal proceeded completely normally and unspectacular. Around ten ó clock Paul dismissed his ensemble.  Paul hated the evenings Essen. Opera singers are so awfully disciplined and march off home immediately after rehearsals. For guest-directors that is a torment.  How did he long for the alcohol laced evenings in Meiningen, where the canteen had no curfew and the vodka was served and drunk still in  grams.  Paul did not want to be alone this evening. He hung around the message board for a wile and hoped, that the diva had not left the house yet. But the Theatre was empty. But the house was empty, almost all the lights were switched off and the doorman drowsed in his little cabin. When Paul left he asked the doorman carelessly:  "Mrs. Luda already out?"

"She left twenty minutes ago," sighed the night-porter and slowly Paul strolled out  on the street. Big cities are absolutely deserted at half past ten in the evening. Especially around the theaters.  Sullenly Paul started his way to the smelly, utterly ugly little Theatre apartment he stayed in at the time. 'Once again one of those fucked evenings he thought, when a Japanese car stopped beside him. I n the darkness Paul could not recognize, who sat in the car. The window slid down and from inside the care came a
minutely small voice:
"Yes, that is love!  But we are not allowed to do that.  We must think about our duties.  I will pray for both of us."

The pane flared up and with screeching tires the car whizzed around the next corner. Paul stood like growing roots on the sidewalk.  He could not think about anything. He saw nothing. He heard nothing.  Something hammered inside his had and he soon was soaking wet  through the starting winter rain. He stood on the street and could not go for or backwards. Sometime, almost hours later he finally arrived in his flat. He uncorked a bottle of wine and ascertained hours later that he had forgotten, to pour himself a glass.
"I will pray for both of us Pray!"  Paul suddenly roared as if in pain. He opened the window and held his head into  the sharp wind.  The rain meanwhile  had changed to snow to snow and in the pale light of the street lantern the white snow crystals were dancing. .
"Praying. Oh God!  Polish. Catholic.  Married,  two children!  Are you insane.  Why did I leave the church if  now somebody wants to
pray for me!"  Paul could not grasp it. "Yes, that is love," she had whispered. Was that a game?  Did she try to make a fool out of him?   What was going on? He was thirty-eight years old and did not understand anything anymore.  His life appeared to lose its sense. He burned down at both ends.  About the pope he had written years ago: Incarnation of God's fart. And now a catholic, married mother of two children. He had to laugh.  Well, for the time being his reasoning power appeared still half-way in order.  What should become of all that? What?

When Iza came she was greeted by her fast asleep husband. He had fallen asleep in front of the television and now was snoring peacefully. Iza made her obligatory round through the children's' rooms, went into  the kitchen, drank a small beer and ate a piece of bread and dripping. She love bread and dripping although she should not.  As Opera diva with ambitions to grow into a Spinto Soprano and sing part like Mimi and Violetta one should be cautious.  But then she loved her little weakness with a bit of  fresh garlic on it. She washed the plate and the glass and switched off the kitchen light. In the living room her husband happily was sawing along. Her dear Alexander.  She stood in the living room door and looked at her husband.  She was confused.  She had no reason for fear but she still felt scared. With a deep sigh she walked over to Alexander and kissed him softly until he woke up. 
"Hello - I am home.  Do you want to?"
Alexander always wanted and was always able to. No mater how tired he was or how much he had drunk. With his Iza he just could not resist his urge. Giggling they cuddled up in their bedroom and
Alexander had the night of his life. Iza lay on her back with her lusty husband on top of her and only thought: 
'Dear Lord, forgive me. I am cheating on him!'
However, she did not mean she was cheating on her husband. She felt like cheating on Paul. 


CHAPTER TWELVE

"And how did that go on?" asked Grit.
" Polish Roman Catholic," answer Paul.
"From this day on we were a couple. And what kind of a couple we were. We loved each other in a kind which I had never had experienced before. Everything seemed to be genuine and simply true. I flew with her through the world.  I made everything perfect for her. It even did not put me off when she slept with her husband from time to time. It did not care. I thought, I am in love. For the first time a I am completely in love and feel great."

"And you felt great to completely pay the bills like always," mumbled Gesche, who attempted to finish up her fifth glass of wine.  The ensemble had decided, to transfer the rehearsal to a conveniently near bye restaurant. With a glass of wine in front it felt easier to be confronted with the reality of life. 
"You mean the pearls, Gesche? The chain of pearls for four thousand Marks? Them ones  I bought her in June, when we had our first rehearsals? No, I did not have to pay off as usual. It was a gift for her. She always said that she felt save for the first time in her life. Save because of me. When I was in the auditorium, she was able to sing freely and without any fear. For her debut as Violetta I believe that pearls are a vital necessity. The
tears around her throat and not in her voice."
"How romantically," mimicked Gesche.
"Shut up," said Gert. "That is a ver cleverly clever remark."  
"However, you are not together with her anymore," said Grit.  
"No.  After the departure of my wife the story escalated.  Iza's husband  had authorized a friend, to spy on his wife.  He suspected that there was something  wrong and so found out that everything was wrong. A true Polish drama. Even the minister of the church in  Gelsenkirchen interfered.  Also a pole.  Her husband  sat weeping in front of  my hotel in Gelsenkirchen.  She crept for five minutes to me.  Sometimes we only saw each other at the station, when she took the train to a performance. The time, when nobody but us knew something about our affair was long gone. When we finished our rehearsals here before the summer brake I had to go to Zug, in Switzerland to direct this insane and idiotic Keep Cool musical. Keep Cool at thirty-five degrees in the shadow. Iza and her children were  meant to spent some time with me there. Wrong thinking. She suddenly disappeared.  Her husband then told me at the telephone that she was pregnant and took off to Poland.  Secretly.  He also did not know where she was.  I demanded a test to prove who's child it was. Then came the news that it was meant to have been a false pregnancy.  Lie?  I have no idea. Despair?  Who knows.  Since then I carry two letters around  with me. One which  I wrote during the summer to her husband Alexander,  and the last of  a hundred letters, which I have written to her since our
last encounter. You must forgive me that I am going to do something now, which actually is totally against my principals. But since we are rehearsing a play which is based on a so called letter novel I do think it is appropriate. Perhaps my own story can  prove to  you, that what happens in our play three hundred years ago is still happening today. May I?"

They were sitting together for hours by now. It was one of the most important evenings in Paul's lives.  He did not tell fairy tales instead of the truth.  He finally was able to talk about the story his singer.  He did not know, why he did it.  However he knew, it was the only thing to do now. Paul pulled the two letters from breast pocket. He always had those two letters along with him. He started softly and very concentrated. 

Oberägeri - 21 August 1992
Dear Alexander,
after our last telephone conversation I do come to the conclusion that you must have misunderstood some of the details in my last letter to you. Perhaps it is a matter of language and here specially in my way of putting things which could be the reason for vital misunderstandings. Also your report on your trip to Poland and your remarks about what Iza had to says do not appear to be the complete facts.  Therefore I would like to put forward some clarifications to you , as simply as possible, so that they finally are understood. 

1.) Iza has lied to you and me about her pregnancy and she did so out of a completely simple reason:  She was together with me on  that 15th of July and she herself has made the statement that this was the most dangerous point in her cycle.  Four days after this night you departed to Poland. According to Iza she made love to you six days after her so called hot phase. After the long drive I do not believe that you intended something like a planned new parenthood.  Purely medically there would be a slight chance that she still was able to conceive at that 21st of July - however, this  is  relatively improbable.  Exactly three weeks after that 15th July she informed me about her pregnancy  to be precise on the 5th of   August.  Two weeks later she not pregnant, anymore  but had had  a false pregnancy, which had been treated in Poland. According to my own doctors' information from today a false pregnancy however is treated medically first at least six weeks after pregnancy was diagnosed and hormone treatment starts earliest after three months. Isn't that somewhat strange. Isn't it?  Therefore get accustomed to the fact that your wife is still lying. 

2.  ) It is right, that Iza wanted to be the only woman beside my wife. But it is also true that I did not want to have two women - out of what ever  moral reasons. I have made a decision for Iza, because she is the woman who I love and for who  I want to live.  Fact is also that I for myself have told my wife the full truth very early in our relation ship. The question remains, why Iza has
not dealt with the situation likewise. I very often gave her the chance to get rid of me. I was prepared to leave her. However her request to me to stay with her made me go on with our relation. One of the reasons for that was also because I trusted her boundlessly.

3.) I never demanded from Iza that she should leave you. Not because I did not want to take over the responsibility for Iza, however,  because she is fully free in her decisions.  I was only ready accepted everything, because I love her.

4.  ) I never force Iza or chased her. I was with her whenever Iza wanted me too.  I never  surprised her and never  forced her to meet me. Our get-together was always Iza's own wish.

5.  ) After my first met you in Gelsenkirchen, Iza would have
had the possibility, to finally get rid of me. She only would have had to say I do not want to see you anymore. However she decided to continue our relationship. Once again secretly. That is why I was in Vienna with her and why I lived in the Hotel in Gelsenkirchen.  I have always warned Iza about what would happen if  you would find out our secret a second time. But she wanted to go on. I have never forced her to do so. 

6. ) Iza has never offered me her friendship or asked me "to  only  be a good friend."  She always knew that this can not be possible as long as we love each other so much.  She apparently told you this story to simulate safety.  At our meeting on at that 15th of  July she did not say Good bye to me but arrange a meeting with here in Zug. I have reserved and paid the hotel room for her and the children. She also promised me to come to Münster to see my Liederabend. Therefore I have promised her, to never say  a word to you about this encounter.  I have not  forced or persuaded  her to say anything. Iza wanted it like it is. What happened is now history.
 
7. I have no friends, because I trusted Iza.  After what she has done I do not want to have friends because I do not believe that I would be able to trust anyone. 

8. I do believe in God, but not in the Roam Catholic church.  You
      and Iza, you confuse this church with God - Iza tries to live the dogmas and rules of this church, although she actually can't.   You personally do not give a damn about this church. You do not confess, do not go to the communion - you are only proudly on it, not as cowardly as I been to be.  I am of the opinion that you don't belief anything but are cowardly enough to halfhearted believe in the promise of this church that there would be a better life after death. You belong to a church whose chief is not accidental
one of the most aggressive and most inhuman popes in the Vatican History. 

9.) The Polish families hold densely together, which only means that no disturbance is allowed. Each attempt to cut the navel cord  each further development of one of this family's members will be punished heartlessly. Iza was in great fear of this family because this family threatened her that she would lose everything - not only her children if she would try to leave. Who wants to leave has to lose everything. Fear makes you weak, dear Alexander and the Polish families know very well, how to stress fear upon someone and therefor to force escapees back into the prison.  The beauty of my own family was that nobody has tried to make me a reproach, not because they were uninterested but because they love me and only want the best for me and they do know that everyone has to do what he or she must do.  My family did not drop me. My family tries to understand. Strange how different the worlds of families can be. 

9. ) And the last truth:  I think about my children, I think about the well-being of my wife. I have done everything to cover their future so that they can live safely on without me.  One can not force a man like me, to take over a wrong responsibility especially not if he would have to lie to do so.  And that, dear Alexander,  Iza's has decided to do. However,  I regret that you will have to live a huge lie of life and that you still believe that this will make you happy. Your triumph is small, Alexander, as long as Iza does not tell me the truth. Although I am sure, that Iza is not capable  at all to answer openly and fair to me, because she is obviously forced to lie to me and does know too well that one cannot lie to me.   Who looks into my eyes sees that I do not play false games. That for sure is the reason why Iza does not want to look into my eyes at the moment. 


Which has begun so decently should be brought to an end with respect and style. To disappear into the night like a thief that is not the Iza I know. To spin intrigues that is not Iza's goal.  You are a strong man, Alexander.  You call me inhuman and tell Iza about me, although you do not know me.  For you it would be the best if you all could return to Poland  - who is selfish here?  And Iza for you should be a quiet housewife and mother and grow happily old.  You are not the egoist, dear Alexander, but I?  You have
twisted and turned around the facts so they appear favorably for you.  You hold  tie up Iza so that she can not fall into the hands of this cruel monster Paul. You maintain that you can live without her - prove it.  I have forced Iza you  lie to you. My present was wanted by Iza and you wanted her to lie.  Otherwise she 
would not have done it.  Perhaps she lied to you out of desperate fear, the fear of the consequences - fear, Alexander - not love.  I am not scared, Alexander. Not scared of you not of Iza, not of this world  for this world gave me Iza. However it is difficult to conquer your own fear.  I do not want to win, for I do not play.  I do only want Iza's truth - told by her personally - directly into  my eyes - not for my own sake, but so she can live in peace. So that she can sing and so that finally can be as fair again as she always was to me. This is not about my life, Alexander. Its only about Iza's happiness.

Iza will find a letter from me at on return, in which I will tell her about this letter to you. I want her to know exactly what we really discussed so that she knows that I did not cheat or lie to her. You have used our telephone calls for your fight, Alexander.  I did not know that you are fighting a war against me. Skoda - but no one can lead a war against me, for I refuse the power and the hate which come along with a war. You can not win your battle  against me, Alexander - you only can conquer Iza but never me.  My love for Iza dedicated to give her so much trust that she can become invincible - that she can go straight ahead upright and freely. You live fully caught in your own company.   Your own company and its rules are the goal of your life. You need those rules to survive.  I however do not need these rules, for my life is nothing but a huge present.  The present of the love, Alexander, which I always have trusted in. Which  I will believe in as long I shall live. Two people belong together - however often you only have the chance to find this one person once in your life. For me this one true person is Iza. For you too - perhaps. Iza once said to me: My apartment in the Ringsteet is what I have achieve for myself but you, Paul are what I always have dreamed of. 

Only rarely dreams come true, Alexander. The people are scared of dreams. They rather comfort themselves with social safety and hand themselves over to the protection of the Roman Catholic church to be able to then write one their:  In the hope of a life in peace. I am a man from an other world.  I always will love Iza  whether I may live with her or not. Iza too has  said to me that she will always love me and I trust her. One last time.  She also told me that she must resign and must live on without this love in solitude - because she could not find the courage within herself to leave her family. These are her words and not mine. I can and do not want to force her.  I only can ask Iza to not giver herself up  so terribly. I demand nothing, I do want anything. I ask her only to meet me one last time to tell me her own real truth and tell this truth to you too. From me you will learn nothing because I have promised it and what Iza will tell you after such a meeting is beyond my knowledge. I do hope she will regain the courage for this meeting to be able to believe in her future again without  suspicion about it coming from your side. That is the only thing which counts. 
Paul.

"A powerful finale," groaned Gert.  "An other round?"  All nodded and Gesche stared forlorn at the table in front of her. 
"How do you see that today, Paul?  Was it really the big love?"  
"No."
"No?"
"Up till the very end I persuaded myself to believe that.  She was a part of my dream.  But not the whole dream. I do not say this now because she left me. No, that is not it.  She was, if altogether the beginning of the discovery."
"And now the stag is on the deer hunt again." grunted Gesche into her the seventh wine. "I want to hear the other letter now and then I will complain about you in the office of our artistic director. What are you trying out here, you skunk-nose? Give me that letter, I will read it out."
The others remained and Paul said:
"Perhaps I have gone too far.  However, this seems to be the time for truth."
"Give me the letter, dumbo!"

Out of a strange impulse Paul handed Gesche the letter and could not help himself to say:
"But please read clearly, duchess of Treppenhof."
" I read as clearly as you deserve it, skunk-nose."  Gesche thumbed through the pages of the letter and said:  
"For that I should get an award for bravery. Alas, my dear friends.   A Loveletter.  Münster 4 September 1992.  The last of
hundred."  At the beginning she  read gloatingly but the longer she went on the more earnest her voice grew. 
"Now finally everything lies in the past. The departure from you was tormenting and much too long - like this it must be when one knows that he does not have to live much longer and nobody and nobody can forecast the exact date of death. Your call today has drawn the final line - senseless to ask why.  I can not blame your husband for being evil. To fight me he must paint my picture as dark as possible. Perhaps he believes that will give him more power over you.  Alike - it is the past.  The pain will protected by the coat of forgetting one day. I have not cheated you, I have not abused
your trust, I have not lied to you and said never was evil or said something awful about you. I could not gain anything from that. I never betrayed you - there his word stands against mine and why should you believe me. You have lost your trust for me and with that as well your love. That I must accept, with that I shall have to live from now on. Although I could not hope for you to believe me and still never gave up my hope for your, for I thought I love life and the belief  in it. You say, one must stop to dream!  That is for me like saying stop to live, stop to love, to smell, taste and feel.  Simply stop to be a person.  One must stop to dream - you have done so and that inevitably makes me invisible for you. I know, you must do that, I know, that must be so for you. I know.

You will live in peace, until one day you must dream again, for without dreams life is unloving and gray.  When you will dream again, once again a man will emerge from another world - even if you have to lock away this thought very safely today. However,  believe me - the day comes, for you  do believe in your dreams and hopes, in your longings and your curiosity as strongly as I do. I was able to make livable you and that causes great bitterness in me. Therefore it is also quite right, that you can not trust me any longer. I have simply thrown away my children. I have smashed my wife to thousand pieces. I almost have ruined your family. I have betrayed my responsibility and sold everything what I believed, what I stood up for. I made a joke of it. How should one trust  such a person, why should one trust in his love?  Yes - the dream of you was more important for me than the reality. However, in this reality I do not want to live any longer. Don't want to breath in it any, May even no longer work in it, for my longing confuses my environment too much. I have made big mistake. I have firmly loved you and believed to have the right to do so. But I had no right. Because I am a careless person, I even don't clean up the bits and pieces which I produced. Because I am a fool, I simply will sweep the pile of fragments into a dark corner and go looking for the place the place, where I can produce new fragments.  And so the man from an other world will always be on the road like a rover, looking on for a person who is not any longer called Iza in his dreams. You have lost your trust - the only, big luck, which gave me the courage to believe.  For your trust I fought since the first day.  You deprive it from me and finally left me now. I thank you, although I do not believe in thanks, I thank you for a time of  resting.

How many people I will hurt again?  How many people will have to suffer of my sarcasm, of my stubbornness. How many will suffer the pain of my mockery again? How many will I use once again for a short and selfish well-being and how many will be forgotten again shortly after my departure from the many strange city my journey brings me to? But probably I am much to burned out and tired to look long enough into the eyes of a woman and shaking her with it.  Alas yes, I should perhaps wear sunglasses and wear gloves. Cover those hands which can be so gentle. 

Should I talk about God with you?  I do not know, whether you are ready yet to really talk about God. Because your time in Poland did not make your believing in God strong again but only your belief in the Roman Catholic Church. However, the catholic church is not God - she is not God's agent on earth, she is only an other, more aggressive, power-hungry, political
state, with a head of state, who calls himself pope.  The most important political measure of this state is to spread fear.  The bank accounts of this state do not do any good,  for the children of Somalia starve in the name of this church - in the name of God - even though there is enough food in this world for all those who suffer from hunger. But to share seems to be very difficult for those who are satisfied  - and your church is one of those satisfied ones too. Yes - I am the devil, Iza - your devil - who tells you over and over again that God has forgive your sins a long time ago because God does not put conditions on his forgiveness when somebody honestly regrets as you do. The Roman Catholic Church will never grant you pardon because that would mean you would have no need for fear anymore. And without fear you do not need this church, but only your deep belief in God. And that would make the church useless and that is why they prefer to keep you in desperate fear. This is why I told you that my wife Ann and I do not have to forgive you anything. That we just must learn to understand the power of believing in human life.  I believe in myself, understand you and can not damn life's' evilness  - how should I blame you who is the one and only true love of my life. 

I say fare well to you, Iza. I can wish you nothing, for I have nothing to wish any .  I can hope nothing for you since I have no hope left. I say goodbye to, because I may not disturb your peace any longer.  That I only was allowed to do as long you trusted me. Forget me, Iza, the man you believed to love , this man does no longer exist. 
Fare well - you - unique one  - I am scared."

Gesche burped heartily and handed the letter back to Paul. Paul examined her for a long while but without anger and then he said  softly:
"From tomorrow on we should work exactly on that fear for our play. I believe it is essential that you get to know your own fears and bring them along into your parts. The Dangerous Liaisons only will work on stage if your own feelings guide you. We perform very closely to the public, so to speak on their laps. They see each motion, nothing and nobody can hide behind the ramp.  
They will see the beads of perspiration on your upper lip.  They will smell you.  They will lock themselves, if you are not uniquely true.  You think you can achieve that?"
" One can trying everything!"
Gert yawned heartily.  It was two ó clock in the morning and Gert
Grit and Werner, an apprentice who had said not one single word until the rehearsals started, said good night and left the restaurant. Only Gesche remained seated.  Paul neatly folded up the two letters and stuck them back into his pocket. 
"Your repertoire of trash is improbable, skunk-nose," she hissed. Paul examined her quietly and then he got two letters out and
ripped them into small pieces, which he carelessly threw into the ashtray.
"The End!"  he said.
"Just kiss me," murmured the countess of Treppenhof.
And Paul reached across the table and kissed her on the mouth.  With this mistake a true nightmare started for Paul.


CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Paul and Gesche for some time became the most desolate pair of Münster.  They did not love each other. No,  they burnt themselves up.  They drank like the horses after a derby.  The talked, no rather screamed for hour at each other. Their discussions were heated, dangerous and totally wrong. Gesche liked Paul. At least that was what she told him. Paul hated Gesche.  From the depths of his hard. And he told her that. Why he was with only he himself knew. He wanted to anesthetize himself.  Wanted to be as cold as a machine which cannot feel. He love it to let himself fall into Gesche around four ó clock in the morning, with the purpose to exhaust himself totally. For the first time he did not make love to a woman. He fucked her. Roughly, violently, unimaginatively, rudely.  Up till then the act of love was a sacrilege for him. Now he puked love. He started a fight with everyone.  He raged in the Theatre, well knowing, that this could cost him the trust of the Artistic Director. He mistrusted everybody who had to work with him. He sniffed out  errors, uncovered them and let everyone run into his open knife. He was on a trip of self distraction. He did not know exactly who had triggered the famous red button.  With liquor he tried to anesthetize himself. His new musical for children was rehearsed under his direction.  became to this time   He knew, he was in no creative mood. But  this work was pure manure for him. He scorned his own talent. He hurled money around as if he had a printing license. Once, the photographer in residence tried to make a fool out of him . Paul just reached into his pocket, got 500 Deutschmarks out, gave the money to the totally surprised photographer and said:
" If you are able to create one single good photo of me, you may keep it.  And now shut up and only do speak up again when you have managed to take that picture."


Naturally the photographer did not create the picture. He did not
Give the money back either. Gesche wanted to have Paul completely to herself. She presented him to her parents in Osnabruck.  What kind of delight that was.  Gesche insisted that he flew over to Sydney at Christmas. To see his children.  What she wanted to achieve by that was pretty clear. She wanted him to make sure that there really was no way of reconciliation with his wife. She bought two gigantic Teddies for the children.  She actually was in greater need for a Teddy-bear then his children. At on advents Sunday he was presented to Gesche's family during a pre-christmas family dinner. Everything proceeded very harmoniously.  Paul chatted lively with the parents.  Then the presents were handed out. All were happy and id there Ah's and Oh's and gave little kisses to each and every one around the huge table. Then Gesche's father suddenly said into the round:
"How much money would necessary to pay out your wife in Australia a for good?  My stepdaughter appears to be very much in love with you, Paul.  I also do find you a pleasant addition to the family. I would like to see my daughter happy."

"Brilliant, Daddy," screeched Gesche.  Paul still remained silent.   
"Now Paul, it is Christmas," growled Mr. Treppenhof.  
"Brilliant.  An absolute stroke of genius."
"Genius?"  asked Paul quietly. "Ingenuity is only good, if one can adjust it."
"Then let me adjust your ingenuity a little bit, Paul," purred
Gesche at his ear.
However,  Paul got up and said softly:
"I am very sorry to disturb this little festivity by leaving. I am sorry. I think that was it, Gesche. "


Paul, without hesitation walked into  the hall, grabbed his coat left the drove back to Bielefeld.  He did not think about anything.  Nothing at all.  He drove without knowledge where he was going. After two hours he woke up in the lobby of the Moevenpick Hotel in Bielefeld. He said hello at the reception, got his key, went up to his room and calmed down on the bed.  On the mirror were hanging two pictures of his daughters. Both in  swimsuit, cordially laughing, at some beach in Sydney.  Paul lay on the bed and thought nothing.  He stared at the ceiling and saw nothing.  He fell in a large black hole and while he fell, before him a neon-light was flashing - spelling out the words: 
30.11.1992
Start of the rehearsals for Two by Two:
Finally I do not need mirrors any more.
You are here.













CHAPTER FOURTEEN

On Monday, November 30, began the rehearsals for the German Opening of the musical Two by Two in Bielefeld. It was rainy and cold.  Paul had lived and worked for three years, together with Anne, in Bielefeld.  This time he was glad, to have a
good room in the Mövenpick-Hotel.  The price was acceptable and 
meanwhile he had learned to love the comfort of good hotels.  That he came back to Bielefeld after almost six years, he did not comprehend completely. Two by Two was a smalzy, outmoded Musical by Richard Rogers. With Dany Kay playing the lead way back in the sixties it might have been somewhat funny.  But since it was a German opening Paul took on the job to nurture his reputation. He was allowed to bring along his Team. Perdi designed  stage and costumes and an old comrade-in-arms, James Brookes, the former Jesus Christ Superstar on all German stages took over the lead of Noah..  Sylvia,  with whom he had worked a  thousand times before  and the former colleagues from Bielefeld, who still were hanging around, were also quite familiar to him.   He was happy to work with his friends and the three new faces, which he had not met yet, well he would find a way to deal with them too. He arrived on the large rehearsal stage, greeted Perdi, murmured  something about shit and clapped in his hands, to get the attention of the cast. In this moment the door was soared open and Iza stormed in.  Paul had to sit down and Perdi asked: 
"What is wrong with you?"

Paul only shook his head and said nothing. Naturally Iza had not come in . However,  the woman who raged in, wearing a bright red coat and sporting waving, black hair was like an incarnation of Iza. Perhaps somewhat younger.  Perhaps even more beautiful.  Perhaps even more impulsive, for sure more jaunty, more, more, more...!  She did not look like Iza, did not smell like Iza, did not  dress like Iza, had green eyes and not masuran blue like Iza. Yet she was of course a singer, like but on top[ of that also a dancer and choreographer, a songwriter and actress, costume designer and mother and sister and brother in one.  He did not know this at that moment, but he knew.  He had been to Bielefeld once in the last year, because the Artistic Director wanted to show him his new discovery, who was playing Sally Bowles then. Heiner, the Artistic Director wanted her to be casted in Two by Two. He only remembered that he had seen a small, gray, woman with a blocked and very large nose, who did not sing out but only marked her part and acted very sick. He did not care if she was cast or not. He just thought, if  Heiner proposes her, she must have at least a great voice. Heiner always made sure that his singers had extraordinary voices. 

In the evening Perdi and Paul ate together in the Moevenpick.  "Now, let me know," said Perdi.  "What's the matter with you?  You act totally lunatic. Something wrong with Gesche?"

Perdi was the only one who was familiar with each and every expedition Paul had encountered in the past twenty years. 
"Leave me alone with Gesche," Paul grumbled. "You know exactly, that is nothing to last."  
"Oh man," Perdi sighed and shuffled with great pleasure a piece of lamb into his mouth.  "Don't. Don't do that, Paul. Please. Don't."
"What shouldn't I do?"  asked Paul hypocritically.  
"Leave that girl alone.  Leave her alone, Paul."
" What kind of girl?"
"I know you, Paul," Perdi said and slurped his Dole.  
"Am I stupid?"
"Yes, you are stupid, if you engage yourself in it."
" And why?  "
"Because she is a pearl and you only a raw Tyrolian hunk.   And besides that you are too old."
" Exactly!"  said Paul and ordered a Grappa.

With this the discussion was settled for both of them. Perdi stayed in Bielefeld for some days to supervise the costume rehearsals. He also visited the rehearsal quite often. Paul always went to all costume rehearsals to make sure that everything was exactly how he wanted it. When Lu, the pearl, came to her fitting, Paul and Perdi stood in the corner to watch. There she stood in a black dress, like the white ones in the famous Ferrero ads. Paul turned his face against the wall and whispered:
"The upper part would have to be transparent."
Perdi turned the head to Lu and said completely spontaneously:
"You are right."
The poor pearl had not heard what the old hunks were discussing and now asked,  slightly irritated:
"What is it?  Is there something wrong?"
Paul examined her from above to below and said:
"Really the upper part would have to see through with no Bra underneath."  
"If you say so," she said quietly.
"Le us take pout the lining."  
"Then the dress is ruined,"  howled the dressmaker.  
"We are no window dresser here," grumbled Perdi loose and the dressmaker disappeared with Lu in the other room.  
Paul and Perdi remained silent. When Lu returned with transparent upper part both men  said completely spontaneously:
"That is how it has to be," and Paul left the fitting.

In the evening, when they had dinner together Perdi only said: 
"You poor dog.  The girl is a smash. I understand if you must.  But please, I am old now. Please, let it be the last time."
"Do you know, what is funny?  I even can you that. Don't ask why. I just know it. I do."


The rehearsals proceeded extremely tenaciously.  Paul had no great pleasure to do the play and needed very much discipline not to chase Lu.  He did not want to do that. He wanted to wait, wait and wait.  He was scared. 
"How old are you, Ms. Brydell?" 
"Twenty-six, why?"
"Nothing to worry. I do not touch anything under thirty."
Stupid remarks during rehearsal time which nobody was able to understand. 
"Just be beautiful."
"I can not be beautiful, because I am not beautiful."
"You are beautiful, so be it."

Sometimes Paul behaved almost aggressively.
"Do I have to get up now and show you how one tenderly sucks at a  toe?"  
"No, please don't!  " it came  promptly from Lu and her partner
"Children," grumbled Paul. 

One evening Paul went to have a beer with James, his Noah. Lu, with no real reason joined them in the small bar. Paul liked that, although he did not want it. James dismissed himself quite early. He was dedicated  artist and very tired.  There now the two hopeless souls were sitting and conversed.  Paul said only the truth.  Cruel truths.  However, Lu did not appear to be disturbed by that. They talked also about Iza, and about Anne, the children.  And Paul knew, why he had seen the neon light on the first rehearsal day:  I need no mirrors anymore. You are here.   
Naturally he did not tell Lu about this. He did not want to say anything about something like this. They spoke also about her current friend, whom she marked as  a One Night stand, who stayed over five years. She wanted to leave him, but did not know how. This conversation occurred before that memorable Christmas dinner at the Treppenhof house. Paul told Lu about Gesche. 
"I will leave her.  If you believe that this would be fairer. Let us make a Deal.  You leave your Peter and I leave the countess."

"I do not know, how I can do that.  Perhaps.  Would you say I should change? I mean, I do make so much trouble because I can't shut up and always have to say my own opinion. Because I do believe in something.  Should I change and adjust myself to reality perhaps?"
" Remain exactly as you are" answered Paul.  "That is our quality.  You are outstanding. You know a lot. You are extraordinarily good.  Remain  exactly like that. Please!"

They left the restaurant and went their ways separately. Paul strolled back to the hotel.  There she finally was , the woman he
instinctively and subconsciously had described in his fairy tale of the man from the other.  Part one, two and three in one.  Did God  finally have some understanding for him?  Or was this the well earned final punishment?

On the next weekend he drove to Osnabruck and left Gesche.


CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The rehearsals were to be interrupted over Christmas.  Paul's plane was due at the twenty-third of December. Once again he was off to Sydney. He had said goodbye to his ensemble and sat alone in his Hotel. He was nervous, because he actually did not want to fly to Sydney. But, he obviously had to.  On the morning of his departure he woke up very early.  He restlessly walked around in his room and ultimately decided to make a dangerous call. He rang Miss Brydell in her apartment and asked, whether she would give him the pleasure, to have breakfast with him. She accepted immediately.  He descended into the hall, to wait for her. She really arrived a few minutes later. The two lonely people sat in the lobby and talked.  Once Paul said: "Perhaps I do not come back, from Sydney."
"Then I will be angry with you for the rest of my life," answered Lu.
They spoke about irrelevant little things. Then they said good bye to each other. Lu was meant to be chauffeured to Hamburg by a pretty young pilot. Paul still had some time, sat in his room and wrote a letter.  But this was a completely different letter, than all the others he had written. 

Dearest Lu - dearest? - Lu, this might be the worst time to write to you - but time is always wrong or right - how clever - how unbelievable intelligent a sentence like this may sound to you. But still - you made me the biggest and most precious Christmas present this morning. To sit and have a cup of tea with you is more, than I should ask from anyone at this time. But still! I go to Australia - because I really do love my daughters - because I really want them to live a happy and satisfied life - or what ever anyone might think is important. 

Men - dearest Lu - men are not only travelling, to use there condoms!
Men are not only seeking for a quick renewal of their desires. 
Men are not a condom - or only worth wile, if they wear a condom. 
Men are not only thinking of tits and ass and their own joy!
Men do love too!

Everyone is searching for the one - most beautiful - natural harbor. I am sorry - but I do think that you are this harbor. Your story, your strength, your smile, your eyes, your fatalism, which is pure optimism - I am sorry - the year 1992 saw the end of my marriage, the death of my mother, the end of most of my dreams - but this year showed me the eternity of dreams too. You! 

I am happy, that I was allowed to meet you! 
Please do not hate me, if I do not come back. 
Please do not hate me, if I return, to seek for my final harbor. 
Please do not hate me!

What ever you will do, I will except it.
What ever you need, I will try to do it for you. 
What ever you wish, I will strive to fulfil it.

No games, no frills, no fakes.

I am going to Sydney and I will return with the hope, that
you will be there to say:  "Hello." The beauty and the beast - a nightmare. Please do not run away.
Paul

And once again Paul flew to Sydney.  He was scared. He did not know how to face Anne again. He was happy for the children, had however no idea, how he should explain to them, why he was not living with them any more.  He was not able to get any sleep on the long flight and arrived in Sydney in a quite overstrung mood.  The sun was rising, just as the heavy bird pulled into its landing loop over the Opera House.  And like on the day, when he arrived for the first time in his secret dream town, all pressure fell off him, when he entered the terminal. Sydney had a strange effect on Paul.  Here he always immediately felt at home. At the exit the girls flew up to him and Anne stood there, as beautifully and proudly as always.  The few days, which Paul had given himself over Christmas, passed by like in the flight.  He fooled around with his girls, led long and finally again earnest and intense conversations with Anne. He sat in the sun and knew what he had to do.  He had to try and win Ann's friendship, give the children a feeling of paternal safety and start a new life: With Lu.

When Paul returned to Bielefeld from Australia, he was very quiet. He finally had clarified with Anne, that there really was no way back to each other. They even had tried to make love, but the former magic was gone. Sexually they never had it that easy with each other anyhow.  The children were happy, that he was with them and so he almost cheerfully flew back to Germany. In Bielefeld the first stage rehearsal was scheduled and in a small break Paul asked Lu: "Well, how is it going with your friend?"
"We made up again."
She looked very sad, as she said that. Paul only answered:
"I have left Gesche." 
"When?"
"Before Christmas."
After that they met frequently for lunch. They also addressed each other informally now. They had wild discussions.  Not about love.  There always were colleagues with them. One day Paul had the courage, to invite Lu for Dinner after an evening rehearsal. Lu seemed to be quite happy and so they drove up to the Teuteburger forests, where Paul knew a restaurant, which was open during the winter season. It snowed softly and at first the two of them sat quiet in front of each other and poked listlessly in their meals.  Finally Paul started to speak. 
"May I talk?"
"Sure." 
Lu spoke so softly, that one almost could not understand her.           "But please, do not interrupt me. Just listen to me and after we will pay the bill and speak tomorrow. Is that all right with you?" 
After a long pause Lu nodded.  Paul hemmed and began to talk very carefully.
"Lu - unfortunately are always much too many ears around us.  Unfortunately I feel again and again causes, to let loose big speeches and sarcasm only born from impudence. I am sorry for that - I do not want to insult you, nor shake you up or get to close to you. What do I really want? I wish to help you to crack the part of Rachel - as well as I can."

Lu wanted to answer, however Paul cut her off with one           sharp gesture. "I would prefer if this musical would never have an opening night. We simply rehearse on endlessly, the only chance for me to be near you as long as possible. Although I really have lost any chance to be something like James Dean."
Lu laughed her wonderful laughter and the waitress perished from the kitchen to see what was so funny. Paul ordered two more glasses of wine and until the waitress served the wine they sat  dumb and helpless. They toasted each other and Paul grinned: "Prostate, may she be kind to us. I wish that you finally dropped the veil you put on in the moment you enter the stage. Lu - open your eyes - on stage and perhaps also in real life.  I know you only trust yourself - well so - however, sometimes you can also trust other people.  You have everything what you need for this life.  Fate has given you so much talent on the way. So much discipline and such a huge love for life. If you use these talents and believe in them you will find trust. Open your eyes. Smile and start to like yourself. Beauty is not just a matter of taste. Don't let yourself get belittled by men or people who just have a different taste than you."
"Find myself somewhat beautiful?" It escaped Lu so quickly that Paul could not stop her.
"You are beautiful - very beautiful, if you just could admit, that someone likes you, loves, even honors and admires you.  Believe it and start to believe in yourself. Your maiden years are over. You have gone past those years. The accident you had and the diseases - it is all in your past. And however, these experiences will always be faithful companions and will help you over many reefs.  We finally once converse alone. Thank you. But, fact is also you go to the movies - alone.  I go at the Hotel-bar - alone. Life - how tediously.  Shit. I was right when I assumed, that you fear your own decisions.  When you told me, they call me the collector - I realized the problem.  Yes - I collect people, like others collect stamps. You are a stamp.  I do not collect stamps.  And now I sit here and wait for inspiration.  I wait for lyrics how you can write them. Wait for unexpected news. Like a mother waits for her child which she lost in the supermarket.  Wait for the storm. I wait for your rainbow, which I never can see. Wait for the telephone to ring. Wait for the return of my power. Wait for a smile, a little bit of laughter, and a couple of warm words. Wait for something - simply for anything.  What is happening, Lu?  Why do I speak to you how I do? Why do I tell you so many mysteries you never should know because they could hurt you?  Why are you popping up out of the blue just now? Untouchable, invincible, because I would not like to conquer you.  Why does your sight make me so sad and helpless, so hopelessly torn between discipline and nonsense."

Paul fell silent.  He had to swallow, to not let his tears flow. Lu looked out of the window, silently shaking her head. For a long while they sat like this and Paul feared, that he once again had gone too far.  

"Who are you?" Lu suddenly asked.
"Ask me," Paul said spontaneously and Lu pulled herself straight up, her eyes began to sparkle and her voice became hard:
"Your aggression for example."
"The most positive form to survive."
"For me aggression is when my fear changes into anger." Lu shot
back. 
"Sarcasm?" Paul asked.
"I am sarcastic, when I have difficulties to honestly say that I am fatally scared to die with two point three children,"  murmured Lu.  
"Fatalism is the fear to die in a yield bed," laughed Paul.  

They started to throw key words at each other and Paul once again had the comfortable feeling that he finally found a person he could talk to.          
"Utopia?"  asked Lu.
"Real people on this planet.  "
"For me people, who accept others," countered Lu.  
"The past?"
"Everyone who believes, to be still alive," held Paul against it.
"Past? Life is never the same again," Lu answered almost sadly.  "And future?"
"A picture of how life should be."
"Future?"
"A planet of living dreams."
"Dreams?"
"The devils' nicest lie."  
"The devil?"
"My best friend," it escaped Lu.
"For me the devil is the last chance to believe in something." Paul replied calmly.             
After a long pause while Lu examined Paul with an almost anxious look she asked softly:
"Life?"
"Not existing," growled Paul into his wine.
"Not the clock, which we do not see?"  insisted Lu.
Paul remained silent. 
"So like we do not know whether death is the end or the beginning?" tried Lu again.
"The death is only a Roman Catholic nightmare," raged Paul. "I do believe in God as I do believe in the tears of child. But God is not a Roman Catholic. God?  Who? Children? We could learn from their sincerity and from their questions.  But we do not want  answers, which we do not accept."
Lu had tears in her eyes and looked straight at Paul. After a while he said very softly: "Hope? You. You? The harbor. The harbor? Life."  
The tears were running freely over Lu's face now. She did not bother do wipe them away. She just looked at Paul, swallowed with great difficulty and whispered almost tonelessly:
"The end?  If we want to start all over again. Hope?  You?  You?  
The rainbow.  Rainbows?  Water and light.  Light?  Life. Paul, I am scared. I would like to make you feel young again. I would like to be able to inspire you. I would like to give you the feeling that your dreams are reality.  But I have so much fear.  Fear of what? Of you? Am I scared for myself? Does my boyfriend scare me? The show? The fear is there.  Unfortunately I have only questions and no answers. I have to ask which hope I may have and for what. Let us celebrate the opening night together. It is very important for me that you are with me. And after that a new day will start. No matter what happens...!"

They sat at their table and smiled at each other. Darkness had set in a long time ago. At last their hands had found each other. 
"Celebrate the opening night together and then a new day will start," murmured Paul.  
"And here starts the curfew," it came from the counter.  The waitress underlined her announcement with a courageous yawn.
"Then bring us two glasses of champagne and please do call us a cab," said Paul over his shoulder. "I can get the car tomorrow.  I bring you home in a cab and excuse myself to the hotel bar. Ok?"
"Ok," said Lu and blew her nose.
After they silently finished their champagne the cab arrived. They got into the back and Paul asked Lu:
"Where to?"
"Is there an airport near bye?" Lu asked the driver. 
"Not that I would know," the driver replied. 
"Then to the Moevenpick Hotel at central station," said Lu. "And please drive as slowly as possible."

Paul and Lu did not wait until to the opening night of their show to celebrate. They celebrated their own and very special opening night two days before the theatrical event. Lu could not believe that she was in his hotel room.  Following her own wish. She could not grasp that he switched on MTV, showed her pictures of his children and made no advances. She could not understand that she was standing under the shower and that he did not come in and destroy everything. She could not get it into her head that when she finally calmed down on him she let herself go and fell. She was falling and falling and could not understand why she did not want to stop her fall. And Paul was floating with his wild duck in the open sea.  Lu finished her relationship with her boyfriend at the party of the opening night. In Dortmund the earth trembled in the dead of winter, as a powerful and rare winter thunderstorm roared around the hotel where Paul and Lu made love. From Berlin Lu informed her mother in London about her new circumstances.  Her mother only asked a few questions and got the picture. 
How old?  Forty.
Married?  Yes.
Children?  Two.
Does he have an affair with all his Leading ladies? 
Not with all of them.
Does he have an Aids test?  No, but two healthy children.

Lu and Paul lived like in a dream. For hours they held hands. They made love unremittingly. They spoke, laughed and could not grasp their luck. Around the fifth of February Lu had an audition in Vienna. Paul wanted to visit some people at the State Opera and so he drove her. They progressed quickly on their way. It was hazy.  However the highway was dry and quite empty.  Shortly behind the boarder to Austria suddenly the sun broke through. Lu reached out for her sunglasses and suddenly one could not see anything any more.  Away over a crest with hundred and sixty kilometers per hour the heavy Mercedes raged into a Fog bank. Paul managed to not hit a waving gray dressed man by steering the car onto the median strip.  Traffic jam in fog without any hazard warning lights on.  Past twelve standing cars raged the Mercedes. Paul tried desperately to hold the car on track and slow it down at the same time. Lu, like a cat, rolled herself on the passenger seat, still holding on firmly to her sunglasses. And then the car crashed into a truck, which was parked half way on the median strip. The End.  All over. Hello Death. A bang, screaming metal, splitting glass and the car's engine broke through into the passenger's cabin and Paul thought:
"Why does this always happen on the way to Vienna."
Near St.Poelten he once had such an accident. He was seventeen then. He had bought himself a car without having a drivers license.  With two friends from the acting school he was on his way to visit his then muse Maria Emo in Vienna. He was spun out of the VW and badly hurt. However, he still drove back to Munich, groaning in pain, so that the police could not get the picture. 

'If Lu is dead, then I want to be dead too,' Paul thought and then it was silent as the grave. The speedometer had stopped at hundred and forty kilometers per hour. They both had the luck of the lovers. They were unharmed.  Heaven had an understanding. The bruises of course were infernally painful and later Paul found out that he had a couple of broken ribs. Lu's luck was indescribable. There, where her legs should be, lay the engine. Her catlike reaction saved her life. So Lu's sad history had finally come to a happy end.  One night she had confessed everything to him. The heavy asthma, which she suffered from since her early childhood, the ice-skating accident in Sweden where she almost lost her left leg.  The artificial knee did his work excellently. For a long time she had daily swum two hours in one go. She had trained like an iron-man and was back to normal now. Then a virus infection destroyed her right ear and left her deaf - for a singer and dancer a nightmare.  However, she learned how to handle it. Later cancerous cells had to be treated on her uterine orifice and through several pneumonia attacks her lung capacity was limited.  All this in twenty-six years. She also told him, why she appeared under the stage name Brydell.  A sting and reaction against the Blondel parents in London.  Paul could not grasp it, because for him Lu was the best he ever had experienced on a musical stage in Germany. He wanted to ensure that her quality would become very well known in Europe. 

Lu lay on an astronaut planked by the roadside and waited for the ambulance. Paul was called for immediate interrogations in the
Police bus. Before he went to the bus he knelt down beside Lu and
said :
"Well then."
Lu began to weep and sobbed:
"I know, I only bring you misfortune."
"I believe, a nice and friendly God wants to inform us that we belong together. We should marry."
Said it and followed the policeman.
Later Paul learned that Lu was convinced that he would end their relationship after this accident. But now she was so happy, that she told the ambulance crew on the way to the hospital nothing else but about Paul's' proposal. Both had survived an almost deathly accident and were only happy. Not that they had survived it.  No, that they were together, that was the reason for their happiness. After the Check Ups in the hospital they rented a car and drove back to Ebermergen.  Paul's Mercedes was only one meter fifty long after the crash, but the undamaged rear had been sold to a dealer in Poland already. 

Few days later they flew to London.  Paul should get to know her
parents.  Then, on the way back, they made a small detour to Innsbruck, to give Lu a chance to meet his family. When they returned to Ebermergen they were certain to be on the right way.  In the same night after they had come home, they lay in bed, just looking at each other and they both knew it was time. Time to make a child. The orgasm was endlessly long and Paul screamed girl and Lu groaned boy. They hardly could wait for the time when Lu was able to perform her first pregnancy test. The first one she messed up because she was so excited that she missed the test strip. However, the next day it worked.  Positive.   What in heaven could go wrong for the two at this time? Nothing. 




CHAPTER SEXTEEN

Something always goes wrong. Paul was so happy, that he sometimes was struck by panic fear. He believed Lu's love, but could not believe, that she would not wake up one day, to ascertain, that she had made a huge mistake.  She was so young.  Why did she hook herself on him, the old stray cat. She was so talented.  He could really do nothing for her.  Paul was not at all satisfied with his directing talents. Only a few people in his life knew, that he had indeed sported an enormous inferiority complex.  Quite often Paul tried to provoke Lu. He of course realized how much he hurt her with those attacks.  However,  he could not help himself. Since everything had moved on so quickly, he once even  doubted his fatherhood. Like always he did it in public. During a rehearsal in front of the whole team. He knew, that he hurt her desperately.  However,  he loved her so dearly that he became uncertain about his own feelings. 

Paul was even not divorced yet. His wife, Anne,  made difficulties and so the process got prolonged like a rubber band. They both wanted to be married the latest at the birth of their son.  Lu could not rein their curiosity naturally and had find out what sex her child would be. Paul was more in for surprise in that case. But in the end he thought that all this was nothing else but the foreplay of the predicted life together. What  really frightened him was the age difference of  fourteen years.  It was not so much the age, but much more the fact, that he, with his meanwhile forty-one years had  twenty-five professional years behind himself .  A powerful advantage and disadvantage at the same time. And sometimes he observed sides in Lu which he simply could not accept anymore.

However, in July 1994 it was finally time for divorce.  Paul and Lu were free to marry.  The wedding took place in England.  The divorce papers arrived one day before deadline, via special courier from Australia. Just in time. Kyra and Alicia had arrived for a long visit, Babs was able to join in with her children and it was meant to be a wonderful, uncomplicated wild party.  But - never trust an Englishmen.  The organization of the festivity proceeded so difficult, that every one was fully exhausted upon arrival of the wedding day.  That was hardly how Lu had expected her wedding day to be. Paul knew, that Lu's parents were really totally against this wedding.  Her father would have loved to send the future son in law to a dessert. He did not like Paul.  And Paul did not care because he knew Lu did not like her father either. Only her  grandmother was a true force.  The wedding proceeded very English and very stiff.  The different races severely separated.  The Europeans on side of the tent, the Englanders on the other side.  If not planned like this, it really worked out to be the battle of the cultures.  What else can one ask for. One day after the  wedding it came to an incident with the new mother-in-law, which tattooed Paul for the rest of the time being. The European guests wanted to explore Suffolk and Paul wanted to take his son along.  However, there the new mother-in-law was standing imperious in the door and said:
"It is much too hot.  You now do belong to this family and so you do what I say.  The boy remains here."

Naturally the boy remained with his grandmother and with Paul remained a deep, never healing wound. He hated this tone of voice. This arrogance.  He hated the superficial attitude.  He hated the nonsense.  He hated their money.  But he was newly and happily married.  Strange. He only had been a free man for ten hours before he remarried again and still felt only totally free through his newly gained link to Lu. 

Paul and Lu worked together most of the time.  That was just right. Little Sean was always with them.  Paul searched for security. He wanted to find a save place for himself, where he did not have to travel that much.  So that he could worry about Sean, while Lu sang as a guest around Germany. He did not know, how he should accomplish that task and got grounded whenever he tried to accomplish this security.   The divorce decree also anticipated specific payments of child support  and so Paul started to check his financial situation on a regular basis. Certainly most of his income was shipped to Australia. Even though they both worked like farm-horses, they never seemed to earn enough for themselves. 
Both dreamt of finally owning their own house. But with no money?  Lu began to grumble and
to remove Paul started to get distant. 

" I have to create the security which I promised her" he was thinking over and over again. For hours he sat in his office planning the future. He made one terrible mistake after the other in his relationship with the beloved wife and then, one day it happened. He fell into a deep depression.  He never had any kind of depression before. He always refused to even get close to a psychiatrist or psychologist.
"Think of where I grew up" he used to say. 

However, what attacked him on new years eve 94 was clearly a depression.  Shortly before Paul had given up his last vulnerable secret. He had been invited once, by a friend, to come along to a bathhouse in Tunis.  For the men the have secret peeping wholes to the chambers of the women. Paul was totally smitten by the grace and eroticism, which the women produced while taking care of their personal hygiene. In this bath house he for the first time in his life saw women with shaved private parts. Paul hid this pleasure and this dream deep inside with the quote: "Impossible". he never talked about it, but in his dreams fantasy was running wild. The deep intimacy with Lu gave him the courage, to speak about it and to find that she also appeared to be completely intrigued by the thought.  Yes, she shave herself and made him believe that she loved the feeling. He also confessed his love for extremely short buzzed hair on women. 
" Perhaps the my latent gay roots he tried to joke away his somehow insulted feeling. But he simply loved to cut hair. It made him feel sexy and he got exited by seeing the head of a woman so free and clearly.  So
undisguised.  So without protection.  Lu made half-hearted attempts and
Paul felt, that he should not have made his confession. 
"If she loves me, she should love me completely."  
Wrong thought.  Paul felt, that Lu grew distant to him. Was the load too much for her?  Was he to insisting, too demanding for her?  Did he demand too much?  Since he had met Lu, a feeling tormented him, which he had not felt in along time: Jealousy.  He could not stand it to not be together with her at all times. He an enemy in each new person she met.  If Lu went to a party, a dinner, a performance without him, the jealousy almost killed him. He constantly was scared to lose her and started to clamp and clamp. One new project after the other he organized, so that the two of them could work together. He even  went so far to ask her to do the choreography for West Side Story, although she had an offer to sing her dream part, the Anita, in a production without him. She said no to the offer and did the choreography. And this production ultimately was the beginning of the end. Lu cried after the opening night. Paul could not even suspected why.  He  was much to busy, to persuade the Artistic Director to employ him for a period of three years. 
He had worked on their first wedding day. Errors.  
He said yes when he meant no. Errors.  
He cut her hair.  Errors.  
He drank too much.  Errors.  
He once again became sullen and moody.  Errors.  
He developed a new misanthropy.  Errors.  
He gave too much money to  Australia.  Errors.  
He gave Lu the feeling not to be the number one in his life. Errors.  
She believed that she was standing in his shadow.  Errors.  Errors.  Errors.  
Paul always thought exactly the contrary.  Paul thought if Lu was with him some of her splendor would fall on him. But she thought: In his shadow I am nothing. Paul never was able to understand that.
 
In the summer of  95 Paul then made his most decisive mistake. After a  "friend" had ruined all his future projects by starting a stupid and unpleasant fight, Paul had a gleaming idea.  For the first time in his life he was seeking for revenge and stole away the European opening of a new Musical from the devastated friend and produced it himself. He calculated the production and found the result promising. He asked Lu whether she would go along.  
"This is our big chance, Lu.  If that works, then everything will by fine. It is a crazy Musical. You are a crazy invasion.  It will be a crazy debut for you in Hamburg.  It will be our show."
Lu was fire and flame.  That's what Paul thought.  But actually Lu at this time was paralyzed from panic fear. Paul did not know that. Obviously she fostered the old British rule to sweep everything under the carpet then openly say the truth. Of course he knew that Lu was longing to move to Hamburg for good.   She could not stand the little country village any longer. So Paul had committed himself to try a move. He just loved her too much. The preparations for the show began and fate took its course.  Lu changed her whole attitude in such a raging tempo, that Paul was hardly able to breath. From the sunny, loyal, life loving, steadfast, rebellious, maladjusted, wild filly she changed into a totally different woman. She took on an additional show in Hamburg. Strangely enough in the same theater, in which they wanted to put on their own production.  She betrayed her whole outlook on life for this job. Didn't she ask Paul that day in Bielefeld if she should change? Now she did it. Exactly into the direction, which dreaded Paul.  Surely she must have had a good reason for it.  Paul was unable to recognize the reasons.  He began to fight. To rage.
"Let me make my own mistakes!"  she screamed. 
And Paul let her.  
"You are an alcoholic.  I will leave you."
And Paul went to a doctor and drank no drop for three months.
When the rehearsals for their own show began, Paul only saw Lu late at night in privacy. And did not let her sleep.  Errors.  She began to grumble, to swear, to bitch, to scream, to hit.  Where was Lu?
"She does not deserve that. Everything is simply too much for her. Why doesn't she realize that she is killing herself?" Paul often thought by himself, when he was lying sleeplessly beside her. The wonderful pleasure and tenderness of their love making turned into brutal sex. Apparently Lu only made love to  Paul to shut him  up. She did it bluntly, quickly and impassively.  A wife, who fulfills her damned duty.  Paul was so shocked that he tried to talk and to talk to her. He wanted his Lu back.  His sun.  His light.  
 However it remained dark around them and became more and more critical. She called him rapist, because he had misunderstood something one night. She id not want to make love but was on heat. And for Paul  to make love was always the appropriate way to make up again. Errors.  In the night of new years eve, exactly one year after Paul had fallen into his first depression, he hit back. One dry, short blow. Before that night had been angering disputes. In front of  Kyra, Alicia and Sean.  The Australians had flown over for Christmas and were not able to understand what was going on. Lu always hit him on his arms and on the back. Twice he took her by the neck like a dog, just to stop her. She announced that he wanted to strangle her. Strangle her neck? She developed panic fears. She was scared of him. She persuaded herself more and more that Paul was out to murder her. He only wanted her to live. He wanted to destroy her.  He wanted to make her mad. What died Paul want? Lu even wanted to buy knife for her protection. What did she want? He only wanted to get themselves out of that horrible, dark valley.  He did not want the devil, whom she called her best friend.  He wanted light again.  And then he hit he her.  Once.  Hard and desperately. The end.  Lu took off at the next day.  Nobody knew where she lived. She professionally attended the rehearsals. With Paul she acted out her own play: The war of the roses. Paul had not been able to sleep for days and suffered a collapse. When he woke in the arms of a doctor, the man only asked: " Should we worry about your wife too?"
Lu sat in her dressing room. not worried about anything but saying: "I hope he dies."
She sat there and did not care. 
The production developed into a financial disaster. On top of all the other wonderful things. The children sat, after the opening night, with Paul at home in Ebermergen.  Destroyed. After completion of the season in Hamburg Lu came home.  She stayed with a friend in the village. Sean lived with Gretl and Paul dwelled with Kyra and Alicia in the apartment.  It was open war.  Lu wanted Sean. Paul did not want that.  Lu called the police.  They could not help. They met at the lawyer. Paul tried to find a solution.  You went to see a marriage counselor.  Paul wanted to try it.  However, Lu had been at her lawyer to file for divorce. She was firmly determined.

The girls flew back to Australia.  At the airport had to run after Kyra. Three times. 
"You are so alone now.  I do not want to leave you so alone." She wept. Heroically she climbed together with Alicia into the big top. During his absence Lu had picked up her personal matters.  Although she had promised, to not undertake anything drastic for the time being. She took off to England.  With the son Sean. When Paul came home and discovered, that she had also taken the wedding present from her parents he got the message.  
Lu was gone. 
For ever.
And Paul sat on the floor and did not know how to go on. 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

"You are a stillborn child," said Babs with a dark voice at the telephone.  
" What is that?"  asked Paul.
"A stillborn child.  The syringe for your abortion lay handy on your fathers bed side. You were an unintentional child, Paul."
" Why unintentionally?  "
"According to the notes of our mother she had dreadful fear because of her third child. She was scared it might be a stillbirth.  When her contractions took too long, your father wanted to cut you up with the scalpel.  He had decided to protect our mother's life and not even if it meant to kill you."
"Come on, you are exaggerating."
"No, that is how she wrote it into her journal. Think of the picture. The oil painting of mother. It is hanging in your living room.  Look at that sad face."
"It is sad" said Paul looking at the picture of his mother on the wall. Beside the mother there was a second painting by the same artist. It showed his father. While the painting of his mother was a peace of art, the one of his father was a rather ugly picture. He looked like a carp ready to be slaughtered for a christmas dinner.  
"Cut both pictures out of the frame and burn them. Save yourself, Paul. Otherwise you will go mad. Your wife already forced you to visit a psychiatrist."  
"That is correct and it was a big mistake."
"Burn  the parents.  And then undergo a therapy and find out, why you consider yourself to be so undesirable.  Then everything will be alright again. Trust your Karma, Paul.  You are an Aquarius with a Leo.   And your damned Leo now has to learn  humbleness. And that bites your Ego.  You hardly can stand that. But if you can learn it, you have a new chance.  Your chance.  Then you finally will be you and not feel so terrible any longer."
"May one burn art?"
" Well,  yes and no. Just believe that it is no art. They are only pictures of your parents.  You do not burn  your parents.  Only the picture of them, which you made up. And if you want to purify yourself completely, simultaneously burn a picture of Lu.  Time will show what will happen. Bye."

Said it and hung up. Babs, his sister Babs.  On her one could rely in all situations.  And on Gretl.  She kindly cooked for him and never disturbed. Paradoxically the telephone had only rung once in four days. 
Paul was not very well. He did not drink, but smoked like a chimney.  At noon he went to have lunch with Gretl - that was all the activity he had for the whole day. He slept for a maximum of four hours and mostly wandered through the large, now so empty apartment. After the call from Babs he took the pictures of his parents from the wall and hid them in the closet. Babs had done that personally during her last visit. However Paul,  out of a strange habit had hung them back. Burn the pictures.  That is mad. Carelessly he rummaged through  a couple of photo albums and found a picture of his parents in black and white. Burn.  Thoughtfully he went into the dining room and stared at the picture of Lu, which a friend had taken at the wedding. She was very beautiful.  He took the picture from the frame and went back into the living room, got the picture of his parents and opened the door to the terrace.  It was icy, foggy, muddy and gray since days. Paul got out his lighter and lit his parents. The flame devoured itself quickly through the old photo.  Paul stared at the burning photo and felt nothing.  Nothing at all.  The wind expelled the burnt scraps and Paul looked at the picture of his wife. He ignited the lighter and held the flame closely to the picture.  His hand began to tremble.  He used all his power to get the flame closer to the photo and was not able to succeed. Tears ran over his face.
"I can not, can not, can not.  I can not burn my life."  
Weeping he put the photo on his cheek. He kissed it and said,  again and again:
"You.  You.  I can not murder you."
He did not care if his neighbor, who extremely intensely was cleaning her windows, realized what was going on with Paul. Slowly he walked back into the house. He still cramped his fingers around the picture of Lu.
"I will write it off my soul," he thought. "Father and mother, both do not exist for me. They never existed.   I always wanted to get away from them. They never interested me. Stillbirth. Therefore I can not mourn after my mother's death. Therefore my father is so alike me. They are and always were foreign to me.  I have never felt something for them. Not then and not today. And Lu? She had to be everything in one single person for me. The poor thing.  I am an idiot.  Can I ever make her forget?"

He went into the bathroom and washed the tears from his face.  When he saw his face in the mirror he simply said:
"Hi."
Up till now he had been Paul Liver, actor, producer, author, festival director, power man, translator, lover, husband, father, Smurf Park director, one man army, helpless. With his finger he wrote Paul Liver
on the mirror and crossed out the name.  For a long time he stared at the name and then at his reflection and said loudly and clearly:
"Hi, Paul."
Had he finally found himself?  Was this the end of this novel, which called itself life?

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The sun, or the moon rises newly every day. Also for Paul, Lu, or Cuddle, or - and? Lu was in England.  Paul drove through Germany  to Dresden and was smashed.  In the middle of helplessness emerged a city which he had looked for over twenty five years. for years.  He arrived at sunrise on a cold winter morning and when he drove over one of the bridges across the river Elbe he thought he had arrived in seventh heaven. Dresden - his dream of a city in Germany where one could live and not only survive. His negotations  with the State Operetta ran well.  In the evening he celebrated his fourty third birthday with friends.The wife of the pricipal conductor cooked Tafelspitz for him. An old acquaintance of Anne came to visit.  He was rehearsing Petruccio in Kiss me Kate. The evening was quiet and extremely satisfactorily.  It smelled of freedom.  The next day Paul drove to Leipzig and again had a healthy conversation.  After that raged on to Hamburg. He met an old love affair and remained steadfastly monogamous.  Vernon, where he now stayed over night quite often, nodded satisfied and growled:
"That is reasonable."
However he did not mean the steadfastness, but Paul's attempt to live. Paul learned, that Lu would not come back from London to Ebermergen. No, she came to Hamburg and had to confront herself. Paul talked, cooed, , knelt and ultimately convinced his wild duck, to dare a new attempt to make up with him.  Overjoyed he drove back to Ebermergen, but returned quickly to Hamburg to look for a new home, harbor, refuge together with Lu and Sean. When he arrive back in Hamburg on a Monday morning, the glow of  passion which carried them through their first love making night after weeks had flown away. Gone.   Everything was already gone again. There was no true new beginning. There was no agreement.  There was only denial, there was only bare fear on Lu's side, there was flaming hate.  Paul observed it, remained silent and became suspicious.  Then he put up a fierce struggle. He screamed silently at her.   On the street, in the car, at  friends.  Once the telephone rang in the car.  The father from Tyrol. He had heard through the grape vine of the reconciliation. The manner how Lu explained it to his father sounded far to icy, hopeless, futureless to Paul. Paul was petrified.  Paul only wanted to flee, to leave , hide far away to not kill her. However,  he could not leave. He had to stay and walk the long road to the bitter end.  They had found a very beautiful, stylish and payable apartment, however Lu refused to take it. Pause.  Caesura?  Provocation?  Paul wanted to calm down and could not.  Vernon had let them stay at his place for the time of their house-hunting. Lu demanded to celebrate conciliation with champagne.  Paul did not want to drink, for he suspected, what could happen.  And so he drank liquor for the first time in weeks.  And he changed.  What  normally quieted suddenly made him aggressive. What made him sleep now turned him into an animal. He stormed into the sleeping room began to rage, to drivel, for blood,  satisfaction, absolution, justice, for apology and help.  
"How can I help you, " asked Lu hypocritically.  
She just should have taken him into her arms, that would have been more help then anything else. But she had to ask, torture him, hit him with words, with her hands and fists and with her devastating aggression. The next morning Paul only remembered red.  Everything was red.  He must have hit Lu.  He must have threatened her like a werewolf, he must have painted the devil on the wall and then hit the picture over her head.  It was the end of the beginning, the beginning of the end, the goal.  Paul was no more the way, he was now the goal. His goal was called - Escape through power.  Raw, bestial, physically chauvinistic power. Lu called the police - too late - ten hours too late. Lu took off.  Lu talked to her lawyers. Paul talked to his lawyer. Lu left with ten bags, eight trunks, a highchair, Sean's a toilet seat. She left with their son, for this son belongs completely to her and for two thirds to her parents. The end. And Germany freezes and can not afford coals anymore, for the winter is so cold and icy - as cold and icy as the feelings of women when they are deceived.



CHAPTER NINETEEN

"Your client meanwhile has submitted his son, in exchange for a mobile telephone, to my client," was one of the remarkable quotes in a letter from Lu's solicitors. Paul sat down. Burn their pictures. He still was not able to do it. He was only able to burn himself. Separation - submitted. Custody for his son - go and apply for it. War.  In London once again the IRA throws senseless bombs. Bosnia bombs herself in the name of peace. Lu builds hand grenades from misunderstandings and Paul sharpens his arrows with the bloody fingernails of impudence. War.  At the front stands a  two-year old child and weeps.  It does not understand the many white crosses.  The child wanders through the trenches and closes the the eyes of hope.  The child stands in the crossfire and licks damp the eyes of the dying illusions. The child crouches in the hale of shells and kisses itself until its lips are sore. The child is murdered.  The child dies and with it dies each child in us. 

"SQ 525 now ready for boarding" - and Paul progresses with his little cabin bag to the gate. On the road again. Like the fool, with light bags he pulls away in search of a new king, who he may cheer up, who he may advise and consult, no should - and must.  The fool has done his job and he now may go. Travelers are all the same. They all sport this insignificant expression. Do not think, simply leave. 

Paul sat wide-awake on the plane and his thoughts raged. Untenable, informally, without connection.  Like night mares the pictures climbed out of the clouds.           
Airport - up and away. Pepole from the edge take off. 
Fear devours inexorably the remainders of my soul.  
It eats noisily and burps my feelings dead.  
What was, what has happened.  
Who was the man, who helplessly  hit
          helplessly around himself


         and so betrayed which up to now @@durchs carried him/it lives.  
          Now @@fang I also still to rhyme at, thought Paul amazes.  
          My brain rhymes - well around itself somewhat new
          @@zusammenzureimen which is not conceivable.  I ++hat hurt
          her, in that night.  Not them/it/her, me personally @@hab I
          thereby well killed.  That rhymes already again.  Now I
          have to away, only if I go, I stand me personally no more in
          the way.  That were not you, which I hit there.  That was I
          personally, which I buried.  So @@murmelts and @@wisperts
          him/it in heart and brain.  My hate is away, so like a
          @@schnöd - beautiful @@Liebeslied.  I @@fühl me freely,
          because I you always still so sweetly, how then as the devil
          came and brought me from God the news, that it laughed full
          luck, as he/it saw us Both @@händehalten.  I @@hab the devil
          that believed and trusts however the peace never so quite,
          because God of the devils was.


          " Goes it you well?  "  asked the cute small stewardess from
          @@Tasmanien.  "How please?"  Paul opened the eyes and stared
          something stepped aside on the stewardess.  " you are very
          restless.  Should bring I you something else?  "  "Eggs
          @@doppeleten @@Whiskey, please."


          And there were first three hours flying time past.  Eight
          hours later then approach on Singapore.  The tears do not
          remain.  You/They follow me like a @@Kometenschweif, they
          bring in me again and again, are faster than the ultrasound,
          envelop me, burn me, @@verglühen me


          to the ash of my debt.


          " Still a @@Whiskey, please.  "


          "If @@leid does me, we are already in the approach."


          " Also well,  "Paul growled.


          As the machine put on went in @@Singapore a powerful storm
          over the airport down.  "Flight - ducks - harbor - Singapore,"
          thought Paul, as he/it examined by the window the
          @@Raucherkabinen the @@Naturschauspiel.  " I weep four hours -
          much too long hours by the window - Singapore weeps with and
          whips itself in the @@Tropensturm the own debt from the
          @@Saubermannporen.  Heart, brain and a Russian sailor, screams
          liquor - taboo who got lost in the wrong harbor.  "


Paul stood really four hours by the window and waited for his connecting
flight after @@Sydney.  To the daughters he/it wanted.  To @@Anne, which was
now friend.  In all windows @@Drop was reflected  "@@Dead @@Fred" the film,
which Lu and he/it saw with the children at their first visit in @@Sydney
jointly.  Why, showed all monitors of the gigantic airport it equal film.  
 " He/it wanted @@Drop @@Dead @@Fred  "- that the dearest also.  Simply dead
collapse.
"@@SQ 215 @@now @@ready @@for @@boarding" flutes it softly.  The
@@sechseinhalb hours flight became tormenting long.
Why does Singapore show @@Airlines only film over single women, men them the
Mrs. away died and discover them now babies.  Do they want to make with it the
tourist the sun savory?  Reading the cares however at home.  ....  No sleep,
only @@grauenhafte thinks of them/it/her and him/it, the son, who could grasp
so nothing at all and would comprehend never again something.  Women, women
must help now.  Women must help now the man in this Mrs. - wrong
@@Rollenverteilung in these relationship - Lu the man, Paul the Mrs., who
can weep personally on the plane.  " No bad trick,  "thought he/it still, as
the machine set for the landing in @@Sydney.  "So attentive and nice I was
treated still never on a long-distance flight."  If @@Chefpurser and
stewardesses water remind even of it, that the life does not pass always only
like in the flight.  As the machine @@grazil to the @@touch set @@down, pulled
a wild ducks - @@schwarm splendidly in the ascending sun.  The ducks flew in
the perfect @@Formationsflug.  And the @@Big @@Top jumbo cowered on the
runway, as a @@Cuddlehund, which never wings increase.

Them totally  "@@overwhelmed" hardened faces of the children, their gigantic
eyes, which @@sperrangelweit open mouth, the common knowledge:  " @@Its
@@Daddy  "- the @@Losrennen, the embracing, the pure luck two @@Menschlein,
which want only a - their father love.  The surprise had been successful.  
@@Anne had told the children only, she/it must pick up a @@Geschäftspartner of
the airport.  @@Anne, dear @@Anne.  Their friend @@Mick stood cramps and
obliquely smiling beside that and made @@Erinnerungsfotos.  Paul thought
still -" you must help him/it.  He/it must comprehend, that I am to be
displaced not here around him/it.  "


Heavy task for a @@desperaten man from Tyrol.  He/it wanted to remain three
weeks in @@Sydney.  Three weeks sun, three weeks concentrated work at the
pieces, which he/it should write on behalf of, three weeks children and good
conversations with @@Anne and @@Peter and @@Steven and hopefully also @@Mick.  
Three weeks power refuel and prove - I am not mad, I am no alcoholic, I am not
depressive, I am not paranoid, I am not schizophrenic I am no rapist, no
murderer, no cattle, no @@Lebensdieb.

"If it speak with @@Daddy" sounded from the @@Telefonhörermuschel.  First long
calm and then:
" Hello!  "
"@@Sag @@bye, @@bye" came from the background Lus voice.
" @@Bye, @@bye  "@@hauchte @@Sean and was away.

Lu took over the @@Telefonhörer and to scream began @@übergangslos, to rage.  
Roaring she/it poured out their hate over all persons, who had to do any
something with Paul.  While she/it drivelled, rang the @@Mobiltelefon, which
had exchanged Paul yes for his son and was at the other end - how strangely
- again the father from Tyrol.  Paul tried quickly the father to dispose of
and became only Lu loose.  She/it hung up simply.  That was then also the
last time, that Paul of his Mrs. and his son heard.  Disconcerted stood
Paul at the @@Küchentresen, disconcerted sat he/it at the @@Dinner,
disconcerted discussed he/it and disconcerted calmed down he/it sleeplessly in
the bed.  This hate, which hit him/it there against, was intolerable,
@@unlebbar.  He/it could, despite oversized tiredness, do not sleep.  Like
@@gerädert he/it sat at the next morning with the girls at the
@@Frühstückstisch.  Like a somnambulist he/it brought them/it/her to the
School, like a @@Zombie was mistaken he/it through a bookstore and sudden was
it there - the stranger.  He/it felt dizzy, no chair far and broadly.  The
sweat broke him/it from all pores.
He/it trembled like @@Espenlaub and his heart made true @@Bocksprünge.

"Heart attack" thought Paul.  " I do not have once a pass at me.  I collapse
here dead and no person knows, who the dead is.  Poor @@Anne.  Poor @@Kyra and
@@Alicia.  Poor @@Sean.  Happy Lu.  Finally you have, which you wanted.  "

With small steps he/it trudged from the bookstore in the shrill, even though
cold @@Sommersonne.
"@@Big @@Baer @@Medical cents, hammered it into his head.  "Only still a
couple of steps - them create you.  Merely utterly no corpse do not collapse,
bare without identity become."

In the @@Medical cents asked he/it about Dr. @@Brown.  The sisters observed,
that he/it was short before a collapse and brought him/it directly to this
doctor, who should change Paul's lives totally.

Dr. @@Brown, a more quietly, well looking @@Mitvierziger, sat facing Paul
and did nothing.  He/it took no blood pressure, made no @@EKG, no blood test -
he/it did nothing medical, but he/it put questions.  Precise questions,
questions them hurt, questions like a scalpel.  And Paul answered.
He/it answered each question without to hesitate and without self-pity.

As Paul left Dr. @@Brown, his thinks raged.  He/it knew now, that he/it
did not stand shortly before a @@Herzattacke, but that he/it had completely
simply a gigantic @@Panikanfall.  On the way to @@Annes house decided he/it,
to find his identity.  And his son @@Sean was him/it as near as never.  The
reality had brought in him/it finally actually.  He/it bought itself that, by
Dr. @@Brown recommended book  "@@Rebuilding @@when @@your @@Relationship
@@ends."  Reconstruction after the end?  That sounded so horribly after war.  
He/it sat on the terrace and began to read and which he/it read, had him/it
frightened no more, but finally clearly see.

" Who nothing sees is not seen, who nothing sees is invisibly  ", with this
sentence had finished he/it always his @@Kästnerprogramm, this sentence had
been always his maxim.  However not until today he/it recognized, that he/it
was personally the blind. But his long lasting, famous last word, he ingraved into his forhead in thick, dark letter:

A clock, which should tick right
needs a @@Unruh.
A man, who should tick right
if quiet needs around his @@Unruh to discover.
Has he/it first both
can no @@Rolex him/it more
the hour hit.













CHAPTER TWENTY

Freedom
- Solitariness - purpose
Frankness - Dear - trust - kinship
Mourning - anger - releasing - selv esteam - passage
He/it should climb denial - fear - adjustment - solitude - friendship

@@Schuldabweisung This mountain?  He/it began his work at the book of Dr.

@@Fisher with large fear.  He/it liked still never psychological essay.  

However that here was different, that was exciting new and.  Already after the

first pages Paul comprehended, that he/it this mountain, as it called Dr.

fisherman, had to climb.  So how formerly, as child.  Did the key lie here

perhaps even to his large dislike against the mountains?  Had the ascending

become him/it so heavy, that he/it sit remained rather in the foggy valley?  

With pleasure he/it answer the first question in the small book with:

"Yes, I am ready.  Yes, I accept, which I have done, what has happened and I
want also know why.  Yes, I want to progress on the @@Wanderschaft and climb
my own mountain, with it I finally again the sun see."


Satisfies wrote Paul:  " I accept my loss  ", under the first building block
with the inscription:  Denial.

Some change is intolerable.  If a person changes on unexpected manner,
increases the denial in the immeasurable.  Is it the fear, which has a face
become to the @@Rattenfratze?  Is it the fear before the unknown, new face,
that there from the mist of the despair increases?  What does one refuse?  
Itself personally, the possibility, the life, the delight, the pleasure, the
dreams, the eternity?  Paul wandered on cotton wool.  The light, Australian
sun became green, bilious green.  The azure @@Pazifikhimmel blazing red.  
Paul saw moon and stars also at day.  @@Giftgelbe @@Glühpunkte in the sea of
flames.  Each muscle burnt, his thinks played madly.  Pictures raged like
latecomers at him/it past.  He/it stretched out the hands, to hold
them/it/her, to grasp them/it/her, to comprehend, however they vanished like
mercury, so like the @@Mondlicht in a @@föhnigen @@Winternacht.  Why?  was the
only question.  Why.  Why was it in Australia so cold, in the middle of the
summers.  Did snow fall for in his dying heart?  Loss.  What had he/it lost
there?  Whom had he/it lost.  Had he/it lost?  As he/it bent, to gather the
@+split remainders of his life, his spine smashed a Nibelungen-schwert.  Who
was his @@Hagen, who had discovered his bayleaf and sinks icy the spear of the
mistrust in.  Agony, now also still bent, before backaches, to see the truth
actually in the face.

@@Hagen - the knight the @@Siegfried emasculated.  @@Ted - the @@Blondel,
which burnt Paul.  @@Your @@Word @@of @@Honor - and Paul was stupidly
enough at, to believe the word of honor a @@Engländers.  The Englands have
given the Indians their word.  The Irishman, the Australians and the
@@Insulanern and @@schwarzbraunen @@Beutelratten in Africa.
"Merrily, as my dog hunts so gladly these black rats," sounded once a
@@windelweicher Briton on the @@Bürgenstock at Lucerne.  Your word as
gentleman, had said @@Ted.  You/They had shaken themselves the hands and
Paul has trusted the most English all Britons firmly.  " I help you, Paul.  
We do not want to destroy this marriage.  We want to pull no fourth child
large,  "has he/it generously before itself @@hingelogen.  And then:

"Save our @@Hochzeitsgeschenk."  And Lu saved.
" Go to the agent.  "  And Lu went.
"Reading you separate."  And Lu wants.
Why suddenly again this dependence on the parents.  For years she/it had fled
before it, had panic fear before it, not loved to become, from this hollow,
@@dünnhäutigen, @@dummstrotzenden father.  @@Ted had loved time of his life
his dogs, cars and itself personally more, than his children.  The @@Bullien
@@Dealers @@Goldlöffel had grown him/it since birth to the gum.  And the poor,
pretty, @@halbirische girls, whose father called herself @@Don @@Kenito @@del
@@Minstral and scattered it his seed over all five continents, this
unsuspecting thing with names @@Linda had calmed down and sworn well by the
back - you @@mach I a life long @@un (probably) happily, completely alike
whether you want that, or not.  Rocks displaces a Tyrol, the Britons sweep
them/it/her for him/it under the carpet.  Obey - the key-word of the family
@@Blondel.  Do not arrange you under -.  If the back crack crooked and lick
the boots of the simplicity.  Money - however with avarice marries.
" We can hold just the head over water, so poor are we.  We can not heat this
winter once the @@Swimming @@Pool in @@Cherry @@Meadow, so poor are we.  We
had to dismiss three staff members.  How tragically, otherwise we would have
had to give up our three @@Direktorenparkplätze in the city center of London.  "

How socially, Mr. @@Blondel.

At the grave the @@Don @@Kenito @@del @@Minstral stood weeping five @@Exfrauen
from America, England, Sweden, Austria and Australia.  At @@Ted @@Blondels
grave will refuse even the heaven, to spill an only tear.
"I hate nonsense!"  if Paul thought and wrote:

" If somebody is the synonym for lived and superior nonsense, then Lus
father.  Under the guise of the paternal love he/it consumes the last hope of
his daughter on a life in freedom.  The paternal will calms down with the
whole weight the @@Silberplatten from the @@Sicherheitsraum of the family
business on Lus heart and crushes their longing after security.  The golden
cage is turned @@blankgeputzt, the returned home runaway @@gnadenlos the wings
trimmed, the key in the lock and sinks as a precaution in the Thames.  At the
place, at which @@Hitchkock swam once as his own corpse through one of his
film.  Hurrah, Mr. @@Blondel - well made.  "


"My debt.  It is my debt.  @@Such you no excuses.  You are it personally,
which has unearthed the golden cage.  You are personally the @@Silberplatte,
which you leaves fall heartlessly on Lu," @@schockte Paul itself
personally.

Lus sudden @@Lebensangst had paralyzed him/it fully.  Breathlessly made.  
 Their fear before debts, their fear before homelessness, their fear before the
breakdown of the voice, their fear before false imprisonment, their panic
before dreams and wishes and longings.  Their horror before risk.  Since the
day of the wedding became from the wild, free, longing amazon, a gray
@@Hausstaubenmütterlein.  Corrosive in their criticism.  Untenable in their
addiction after reward and fame.  Inexorably in their fight against him/it.  
 Who is stronger?  Man or Mrs..  Had she/it suspected for never, that was not
the @@Obermacho Paul the man in this relationship?  Like a finally freed
child Paul had be fallen in Lu in.  Yes, she/it had given him/it
something, which he/it were to be given and also them/it/her personally never
in the status:  Dear.  She/it gave him/it the love, which got them/it/her from
their father never and to give he/it learned her the love, which he/it
expected by his mother.  Fatal error.  Lu married unconsciously the man, who
them/it/her so love, as she/it had wished for it always from father @@Ted and
Paul the Mrs., from who he/it should discover later, that she/it was like
his mother.  However as Lu found out, that Paul would be never their
father, never in the status, to give her the safety and security, which
expected them/it/her by a father - marriage - man - got them/it/her into panic
and ran of it like the @@halbverbrannte, Vietnamese girls from the newsreel.

" If the honeymoons are first past - it lasts long, before the reality kills
you - we have ++uns disillusioned, because the partner does not approach in
the least the @@Idealbild, which we have progressed from him/it.  "


@@Peng.

"Only who it has worked, luck and satisfaction in the alone live to discover,
it can feel and enjoy life this then also in a partnership."


Were they friends?  No.  You/They would have to comprehend the word first.  

Have they entrusted itself each other?  No and yes.

Did they have them equal hobbies, friends, sights?
In part, in part - he/it thought yes and she/it said nothing.

Were their goals similar?  In the beginning yes and then it boarded
them/it/her, without him/it, on a new planet.

Did they solve problems jointly?  No.

If they were one after another evil, to solve they tried the problem, to hide
it, or did them/it/her themselves painful?

First hide and then hurt up to the changes of mind.

Have they taken care of common friendships?  No.  His friends were not for
them/it/her well enough and their for him/it inaccessible.

Did they go out with each other?  Yes, he/it with her always, however

them/it/her well only reluctantly only with him/it.  Have they earned their

money jointly and distributes jointly?  Yes and no.

Have they met important decisions jointly?  No.  For his yes was no and their
no was yes.

Have they granted itself time alone?  He/it felt secluded without them/it/her
and anxiously small and she/it flourished and became awfully - alone.

Have they trusted each other?  No.

Was this linking to be entered important enough for both, personal

compromises?  Yes and no.

Declaration of bankruptcy.













CHAPTER TWENTYONE

Yes, how he/it should become with his fear finished, which drove him/it for
many years.  However at this Tuesday he/it was for the first time ready the
driving, as well as to assume his future fears grateful and to explore.  
He/it was his life long on the flight before the fear.  Paul wanted to
remain stand finally, comfortably turn around and see his fear in the face.  
His fear a smile elicit.  His fear jokes tell and laugh jointly with her
over it.  Before what did he/it have fear?  As child before the
@@Kürbismonster, before the noises in the dark garden, in which him/it sent
the father, for who @@Erlernung of the self-control, constantly.  Before the
falling rocks in the mountain range.  Before the @@losgetretenen stone, which
met the father climbing under him/it and killed almost.  Before the gloating
eyes of the siblings, as he/it had to run the endlessly long way to the altar
of the church of @@Absam, to not have murders for the luck, the father, to
ignite a candle.  He/it wanted to murder nobody.  @@Ulrich, the oldest brother
had climbed over the small plateau, @@Babs had come unharmed over it away.  
Only Paul had well too much fear.  Since two hours he/it climbed, with
trembling kneeling, before his father in the @@grauenhaften steep face.  
He/it hated the fear when climbing.  He/it wanted to climb not at all.  But
the family liver climbed.  The laceration at the head of the father had healed
soon.  But the wound the fear before murder and manslaughter in Paul healed
never.  She/it festered until today and admitted no @@Narbenbildung.

In Munich it was the fear, to be not old enough.  Not ripe enough.  Not
sexually greatly enough.  He/it discovered, that he/it could be only in this
way male, as there boasted all around him/it around, that he/it could be only
sexually male, if he/it do not love.  With insignificant affairs he/it of
wonderful, persevering @@Sex had.  His life long.  With the women them he/it
love, he/it slept already soon no more.  The fear before the
prae-cox-Ejakulation drove him/it to his affairs.  He/it love Lu - long and
persevering.  Without fear.  Was them/it/her therefore an affair.  Was @@Iza
therefore an affair?  No, which had taken both him/it the fear before the
love.

So middle twenty was it the panic fear before crab.  Them wrote he/it itself
with his @@Ballettlibretto  "The death has variants" from the soul.  @@Anne
danced therein only for him/it.

With thirty tormented him/it the fear before the age, before the actual death.  
He/it could not believe in the life after the death.  He/it believed only in
that Now and Here.  Did he/it have fear before the death?  Since Lu no more.  
He/it did not expect the death, but he/it admitted him/it simply.  As
up-to-the-minute, large adventure.

After his separation the fear increased before uncertainty - in every respect.  
He/it stared banished on bank statements.  If his brain tortured with ideas,
how it could go still better.  He/it had fear, Lu no house give to
be able to do.  No second car.  No journeys, no new clothes, no jewelry.  
He/it presented them/it/her still.  However his presents were not large, or
also well enough.  You/They did not suffice, to take her the own fear before
the future.  Paul comprehended that only now.  Too late?


" First if you change, I can be again happy.  From the removal I want to
watch, as and whether you develop.  Then I see further,  "had said them/it/her.  
A @@achtundzwanzigjährige the mother plays.  He/it did not want to change.  
He/it wanted to increase, but do not change.
Paul stood still slowly, turned around and saw his, him/it mocking fear.  
 He/it saw itself personally.
He/it was completely alone his fear.  He/it had fear before itself personally
and his unexpected possibilities.  His fear became finally clear.  Which there
before him/it roaring laughed, were all the powers, all the possibilities, all
the visions, imaginations, @@Utopien and ideas, which he/it had left so long
behind itself.  You/They laughed at him/it, because he/it turned around not
until today, to ascertain, that he/it had to have before itself personally no
fear.  Paul began to laugh, cordially and full courage.  He/it laughed as
loudly, that he/it heard first not at all, as his fears become silented.































"I do not fit me at" had trumpeted he/it his life long proudly in the world.  
To which also.  In last time Paul dreamt itself frequently back in his early
years and discovered the truth.  Yes, he/it had always problems with the
parents.  He/it felt always misunderstood, unjustly treats, forced to deeds
and acts them he/it never wanted.  He/it hated the short line, at which him/it
held his parents.  He/it hated it, no @@Bluejeans carry to be allowed to do,
since this be proletarian.  " Only cloths and @@Karner carry so a manure,
  "growled the father.  He/it wanted to belong @@Karner - the gipsys - yes
there.  Was not one from Lus ancestors gipsy?  Had chained him/it perhaps
this wild blood so at Lu.  His longing after freedom, after which
@@Herumzigeunern.  Did he/it long perhaps for the wild, violent kind of the
gipsys with emotions, to evade large feels?  Was Lu the gipsy in his life,
which read him/it the tickets and said the future wrong ahead?  If she/it was
the @@streunende cat, which proceeded for short time in the security a
@@Cuddlehundes.  Them itself purring around his calves wrapped, which yield
with their paws softly his nape strokeed and bit him/it thereby tenderly in
the earlobe?  Had the @@Streunerin become in the safety uncertain and had to
now again behind mice and rats here?  Did she/it leave behind him/it actually
again in the hopelessness?  He/it needed attention and could not get
them/it/her.  He/it needed tenderness and had kissed his mother never or
embraces also only.  As the @@übermännliche felt father physically, that could
discover he/it never.  Yes, he/it was not enjoy life full emotions and could
them/it/her.  He/it longed for security, for safety and love.  He/it
wished for, he/it would have been permitted to see his mother and his father
only once bare.
Paul comprehended suddenly, that he/it had become actual to the @@pingeligen
perfectionists.  That he/it itself already then, to refuse as child, had
sworn, never responsibility for Other, Weaker,.  Already as he/it with barely
seventeen years in Munich happened, to make he/it tried it all quite.
The principal, to read whom @@Schülerkollegen, which forced him/it once to it,
the whole capital of @@Marx, to mock him/it afterwards, since yes only the
manifesto was meant.  Instead of his emotions free course to leave, @@kerkerte
he/it them/it/her a.  He/it did not want to be hurt, from nobody.  He/it
developed an oversized sense of justice and might comprehend never, that the
reason was this for his destructive aggression.  Always with the finger deeply
in open wounds drill.  Already after short time over corruptions stumble.  
Injustices to uncover and to put at the pillory, that was like one like a
mania at him/it.  Had he/it been treated actually so unjustly as child?  
Could he/it push the debt, no, better the lack of judgment on his parents?  
That would be mean, because so simple.  His excessive @@Verantwortungsgefühl
was at his first Mrs. still at the right place.  This enjoyed it for long
time, to do to have with business and @@Ernährerverantwortung Always nothing.  
He/it carried any responsibility seventeen years long.  If the wonderful put
on a podium and knelt motionless before worship before it down.  And Lu?  
In the beginning Paul was carried away fully, finally a Mrs. meets to be,
which was apparent like he/it personally:  greatly, @@emotionsgeladen,
imaginatively, heavy worker, loyally, humorously, sarcastically, responsibly,
@@kreativ and @@lebensfroh.  He/it could leave be fallen finally and did not
notice thereby, that really Lu wanted to leave be fallen finally.  So his
sense of responsibility grew in the course of the time again considerably.  
He/it alone wanted to carry the responsibility and so tried he/it this strong
Mrs. at his page to @@verbiegen.  She/it should submit his life.  How had Lu
explained him/it that?

"Since our wedding I am unhappy.  Since then feel I like @@Anne two.  You have
no time for me and @@Sean.  You hang only on the computer, lounges only in
canteens and leaves me alone in the care around the son.  I stand in your
shadow, I have no own personality more.  And then are you also still
pathologically jealous, alcoholics, depressive and well also schizophrenic.  
 You are a potential @@Killer and rapist you are sick!"


Exactly, exactly - jealous as a @@Sechzehnjähriger he/it had become again.  
Did the key lie here?  But had not consisted them/it/her even on the quick
wedding?  Was not it them/it/her, which wanted to have changed so quickly
their name on liver?  If he/it was wanted to really as sick as them/it/her
that, or projected them/it/her only something from itself even on him/it.  
How sick was Lu?























" I am not lonely.  I am not once alone, it screamed from him/it out.  Since
the beginning of the crisis he/it looked for contact to persons on completely
new kind.  He/it could listen suddenly, without putting itself how formerly
even in the center.  Whether he/it could be actually also alone, that not yet
know he/it indeed so exactly.  The time had to show, how he/it could evade
with the solitude.  Perhaps was the fear before the solitude with a reason for
his fight around the custody of @@Sean.  The most important reason for this
was however always still his deep affection, his love and his care around the
son.  It should go this child only well.  @@Sean should feel itself surely and
safe, to not become so like Paul itself.  @@Ebermergen was for Paul the
for it most suitable place.  For him/it it was a @@Horrorvorstellung, him/it
in this horrible city of Hamburg grow up to see.  In cramped housing
conditions, there and here pushed from @@Tagesmutter to babysitter.  Possibly
even by city to city dragged.  Paul wanted, that @@Seans were persons to
relate to always the equaling and of course in @@Ebermergen.  With Lu
together he/it would have made even Hamburg to his city.  However alone he/it
saw for this no reason.  He/it phoned his agent and directed him/it, to
apply for the exclusive custody of @@Sean for him/it and to draw back the
@@Scheidungsantrag.
" Reading me my errors alone make  ", had Lu always @@geschrien.  "Request.  
@@Mach them/it/her alone and not me for it responsibly," thought @@
          over it evil.  She/it had to this separation well so
          blatantly, coldly and shamelessly execute like them/it/her
          only could.  Would he/it learn the true reason per?

































Who has debt?  Who was responsibly for this separation.  He/it completely
alone, because he/it had made so many errors?  Lu completely alone, because
you were missing to pardon the power?  Both in equal parts together, because
both were blind?  Who has left now here whom?  Up to his relationship with
@@Iza it had been always Paul, which his bundle packed and went.  @@Mara, Paul and
sat again once at his computer.  He/it wanted to write a fairy tale, for his
son.  He/it believed firmly in it, if he/it would write his son a history,
then came also the day, to which he/it could tell them/it/her him/it.  And so
wrote he/it a whole night long, without pause.

The laughing prince


CHPTER TWENTYTWO

The laughing Prince

In that time, which is forecast us since centuries, lived, in which countries
of the grottoes, a laughing prince.  This prince has not laughed however
always so terribly.  The legend tells us from the oath the @@Mondeule, which
had the country of the grottoes as @@Nistplatz chosen and once, in the figure
of a human Mrs., around the hand of the prince held on.  Which the @@Mondeule
was not considered thereby indeed, the simple fact was, that it in the country
of the grottoes usual, that the man stops around the hand of a Mrs..  Besides
she/it had, in boundless vanity refused, from that, for their species typical,
to separate @@Eulenkamm.  And so happened it, that the prince first at their
sight and somewhat later, still @@lauthalser, after hearing of their request,
in lightest laughter broke out.  This however incensed the @@eitle owl so
very, that them/it/her the poor prince @@flux their own, rattling
@@Mondeulenlachen @@anfluchte.  Which also always the poor prince undertook,
he/it could become the horrible laugh no more loose.  The years flew to there
and the people had get useded meanwhile to his laughing prince.  He/it laughed
of course always then, if it gave to laugh already long nothing more, however
the habituation is the salve of the hopeless.  So the prince laughed for
example, as his mother died.  He/it laughed itself at their, still ajar grave
@@halbtot and the @@hochwohlverborenen @@Trauergäste, which had avoided also
the most extensive @@Anreiseweg not, were @@unbekehrbar dismiss over such
@@Herzenskälte.  You/They did not believe also his assertions and
explanations, which were trimmed in addition also still by the @@gellenden
laughter the @@Mondeule.  The owl could, also after years of the
ridiculousness, their then, @@schmachvolle defeat not @@verschmerzen.  The
Worst, or should say we rather the most Tragic, became it, as the prince in
the @@liebreizende fell in love daughter of the king from the neighboring
country.  Immortal was his love.  Over months away he/it advertised for the
beautiful, soft girl and in a @@Mondnacht came he/it finally to his
@@heissersehntes goal - the charming @@Recha confessed him/it their love.  
Hardly @@Recha had however their sweet mystery @@herausgeflüstert, there
caught the prince, to his own horror, completely unspeakably to laugh at.  
He/it could not hold his diaphragm and his throat do not lock and laughed and
laughed, until the whole lock was drummed from the sleep and the poor girl was
pulled suddenly in the @@mitleidlos shrill light of the shame.  @@Rechas
father referred thereupon the prince, under disgrace, over the state lines and
interrupted all, friendly relationships to the @@Nachbarreich.  The poor
@@Recha however - now, them/it/her @@ertrug the disgrace and disgrace not, so
@@ungalant and heartlessly laughed at been to be.  She/it would faded by day
to day pale and, like a @@Küchenschelle in the hot @@Märzsonne.  She/it
frightened each time to deaths, if in their proximity somebody laughed and
their eyes had spilt long since the last tear.  In a new, light @@Mondnacht,
she/it drove their grief out in the forests and the @@Mistral waved their sad
heart at the boundaries of the country of the grottoes.  If she/it exhausts
and as passed, sank at the foot of the old watchtowers down, which made
formerly the country greatly, however now only still sure hiding place for
@@Mauersegler, barn owls and bats was.  In this silver night the @@Mondeule
sat on the supreme battlement and laughed over the @@tränenlose girls to their
feet.
" Alas I can only finally for always blow away  ", whispered @@Recha the
faithful wind in the ear and it carried the words, along with their despair,
highly up and so happened it, that the @@Mondeule got to hear them/it/her
clearly.
Somehow - the legend is here very inaccurately - somehow went the owl the
supplication of the girl to hearts.  The @@Inbrunst, with which they were
trimmed, met their feminine, motherly kernel, which is also at owls not much
different as at the person and so cleaned them/it/her their @@Silberkamm and
sailed majestically to @@Recha down.  This was meanwhile, as in itself
personally crawled away, fallen asleep, which the @@Mondeule gave sufficiently
leisure, to consider them/it/her itself in detail.  As she/it saw @@Recha so
@@daliegen, in their whole graceful neediness, there came over the owl a kind
sympathy.  Quickly she/it tried, to laugh over itself personally, however it
did not was successful her so completely.  "The girl should be helped,"
 whispered them/it/her herself softly in the ear.  " you should find their
peace.  I lead them/it/her in the grotto of the luck.  There she/it finds
sisters in the grief and is so alone in their mourning no more completely.  "

Cautiously she/it took the girl on their mighty wings and flew it to the
grotto of the luck.  She/it persuaded, with much cunning and a good portion of
@@Koketterie, which biting @@Fledermauswachen at the entrance, stared the
spinning impenetrably in the poisonous countenance, presented the @@Gnome with
their @@gellenden laugh, scratched the @@Jungfrauendrachen the vulnerable
place under the @@Schulterpanzer soft and reached so, undisturbed the grotto
of the luck.  There she/it put the princess cautiously in the @@goldfarbenen
sand before the @@türkisfarbenen ponds, turned quickly still an elegant
@@Abschiedsrunde at it, with noble rock and @@bergklaren crystals strewn
@@Grottenwänden along and disappeared through the stray gaits of the luck.
@@Recha was now in safety.  She/it could dream now finally.  Again and again,
@@one pain and intermission.

The laughing prince on the contrary became always sadder.  Only no person
could believe him/it that.  As he/it heard from the traceless disappearance
@@Rechas, there laughed he/it resounding, although he/it wept however
bitterly.  However like the fate now once always against the direction
revolves, @@Rechas heard father only the @@bitterböse laugh of the prince and
swore @@blutblinde revenge.  The both sovereigns pulled reciprocally in the
war.  The cruel fight raged four years, as long as, until both rich were at
the end and could leave survive only a truce the last remainder at reason.  
However what the surviving reason makes only without survivors?  Even at the
signature of the peace treaty the prince laughed.  @@Rechas father had aged
however too empty and wearily by the long fight and much too quickly, in the
longing after the disappeared daughter, that he/it would have can itself still
against it @@wehren.  In his bitterness he/it struggled itself even a smile
for the prince from, who this him/it, as a dagger threw back in the heart.  
If a @@Hilfeschrei shakes over so much raw cold, which was however only,
locked itself the king in his lock and @@haderte with his fate.  The war had
brought him/it nothing - how so many wars.  No radiating victory, the daughter
not back, but only furthermore the @@gellende laugh of the prince from the
@@Nachbarreich.

The laughing prince wanted to set now however finally his life an end.  He/it
ascended in the high @@Wanderfalkenturm, singed once more his country with his
laugh and plunged in the depth.  However from there the echo of his own,
ghastly laugh met him/it and lifted him/it @@gnadenlos back on the tip of the
tower.  He/it organized a large party, on whose peak he/it wanted to poison
itself publicly.  However as he/it his decision the guests informed, he/it
caught so cordially to laugh at, that he/it spilt the precious poison from the
goblet in his hand totally.  He/it grasped to a dagger, with which he/it
wanted to excise itself the heart, however the blade jumped him/it laughing
from the hand and sank in the deepest fountain.  So he/it concluded, to ride
in the forest and itself there at the most faithful oak the rich to
@@erhängen.  At the @@Waldrand, densely before the grottoes, he/it dismissed
from his loyal and fought alone in the dense brushwood.
"I wants to wait, to I the sun no more insult with my @@schauerlichen doing."

So he/it sat laughing under the eternal oak and waited for the end of his
days.  Hardly the sun had died behind the grottoes, threw he/it a rope over
the strongest branch and bound itself a fitting noose.  Hardly he/it had
calmed down the noose around the throat, since resounded, highly from the
treetop over him/it, an ugly giggle.  He/it tried, it compose @@Laubvorhang of
the oak to @@durchspähen and discovered, highly above, in which @@Überkrone of
the oak, a long since forgotten, well-known face.  There above crouched, in
their whole splendor, which laughed @@Mondeule and.  To the festival of the
day she/it had thrown itself once more in the disguise, in which she/it
scorned the prince once.  And as they crouch saw the prince there above, there
could not he/it himself now really a small smile @@verkneifen.  One must
understand that also, for who sees already all days a @@hochherrschaftlich
clothed @@Mondeule, with a @@Puppengesicht and a @@eitlen @@Silberkamm as
@@Werbungsschmuck, in a @@Eichenkrone sit?

" you laugh already again.  "  If the owl screeched and could not calm down
before anger.  However there the prince would said suddenly very serious and:

"@@Vergiss not, that I do not laugh over you, but because of you.  Your own
oath forces me, to laugh at you.  You have taken me with your offended oath
everything, which me dear and expensive was.  My country, my luck, my trust,
my power and my bride.  You have me also robbed the mourning and the pain, all
that, which a person makes possibly.  You took me even the crying.  Who laughs
at the best now?  And why?  Just because your stupid vanity made you hard and
because you hates us persons for that reason.  I go gladly from this world, on
which no feeling holds me long."

And again stirred @@Menschenworte the feminine @@Eulenherz.  She/it was yes
ultimately no witch, but solely one, in their vanity deathly offended
@@Eulenfrau.  She/it did not want to drive their game also too far and so told
them/it/her the prince, after united hesitation, from @@Recha and the grotto
of the luck.  Yes, she/it went even so far, to lead him/it up to the entrance
of the grotto.  From here from the prince should find now his own way to
@@Recha.
" However please, do not try to laugh.  If you force you with all power, then
will find @@Recha.  "  With soft @@Flügelschlag the @@Mondeule rose in the dark
night and thought:
"Perhaps I should pay once the old @@Mäusebussard a visit.  First with him/it
on the hunt and then perhaps.  ..  now yes, who knows."


The prince progressed smiling on the way, to conquer finally his laugh.  
Carefully he/it went in in the grotto and was caught immediately by their
musty smell.  Like from cheerful heaven threw down themselves the
@@Fledermauswachen on him/it, grined him/it in the face, scurryed over his
cheeks, tickled him/it at the softest places, softly and seductively.  
However the prince declined with force the laugh.  He/it fought itself through
the panic tangle and @@Geflirr and reached so the spinning.  The spinning
crawled completely closely at him/it near, touched him/it with their hairy
legs.  However the prince did not laugh.  He/it had since his childhood panic
fear before these animals, however not once the shock had him/it laughed
today.  Suddenly the @@Jungfrauendrache spited him/it, with a @@Feuerschwall,
@@Lachgas in the face.  The prince moved now hardly still the mine.  It
did not try The @@Gnome still with comical jokes and foolish dances, however
the smallest smile stole itself in the prince face.  So all guards had him/it
happened, of course sullen,.  Before the prince a deep, black hole yawned now.  
In this had to sink he/it now.  For the deepest reason @@scholl him/it
rejoicing, crystal clear laugh against.  He/it collected all his power and
plunged in the ghastly throat.  After black fly and leaden trick hit he/it
backwards on the emerald reason of the pond in the grotto of the luck.  
Elves, nymphs, happy souls hardened all around.  Frightened vomited the drops
of water in the mild light of the grotto.  The prince swam in the middle of
the pond and looked for for a known face.  Princess @@Recha hid before fear
their very beautiful countenance behind a @@Elfenflügel.  However the prince
pulled it, led from a foreign force directly to her.  With one avoid gesture
solved he/it @@Rechas hands of their face.  It must have something wonderful
in the prince eyes @@geglitzert, for @@Rechas, first still so anxious eyes,
filled now with the most delightful smile of a new-born.  The prince saw the
radiating girl and turned away @@scham - and @@gramvoll of her.  However
@@Recha touched him/it softly with the fingertips, @@hauchte a kiss in his
@@tränenlosen eyes and these filled momentarily with precious @@Tränenperlen,
them, as a young torrent, @@Rechas heart @@netzten and to the @@Erblühen
brought.  The prince could grasp his luck hardly.  He/it wanted to smile,
however he/it did not trust itself.  There @@Recha put him/it softly the hand
in the nape, kissed with the eyes his mouth, touched with their luck his old
heart and from @@tausenden of throats @@erscholl a cheerful laugh and carried
the pair, on which @@Schaukronen of the togetherness washed out from the
grotto and it at the @@Gestade new-born hope.  This observed The @@Mondeule
from airy amount, she/it wanted to laugh screeching, however it was successful
her no more.  She/it concluded, to hold on eternally the beak, to not betray
itself.  Since then one calls the owls wise, because they examine you and
are silent so verbosely to it.


CHAPTER TWENTYTHREE


         Lu maintained of course always, they would have no common
          friends.  He/it personally thought always, I have in @@Perdi a
          good friend, also in @@Micki, which he/it had sold his
          @@Tonstudio and it again and again music wrote for him/it.  
          Common friends had them/it/her also.  Thought he/it.  That
          Lu became isolated in @@Ebermergen emotionally, that became
          him/it much to late clear.  In Hamburg he/it had discovered
          the friendship to @@Vernon newly.  In the fight around his
          @@Reputation as musical leader the @@Falsetto production -
          from it in conclusion the separation of Lu sprang - in this
          fight held Paul iron to his friend.  Personally Lu put
          itself against @@Vernon.  Lu put itself in that time against
          all his friends.  Also against @@Perdi, which had the
          production hung.  For it Paul should leave him/it fallen now
          finally.  However the dropping of persons came for him/it
          never in question.


          " At me three fraudulences has each at least freely, before I
          lose my trust, he/it sounded often.  More strangely wise he/it
          could feel at friends, who betrayed him/it, no hate.  
          You/They became him/it simply alike and interested him/it no
          more.  He/it had a large potential at pardoning in itself.  
          This kind drove Lu sometimes up to the white heat.  She/it
          damned those, which had hurt her and sent them/it/her full
          hate to the hell.  As she/it spoke about their parents, showed
          clearly a deep @@Kindheitsverletzung.  Deeply in their heart
          Lu hated both parents and called it love.  Paul however
          did not know so a hate.  He/it got upset, he/it align and
          raged.  However already at the next day everything was
          forgotten.  Lu could evade with it never.  Since Paul had
          learned, without asking compunctions for help, he/it knew
          also, who his actual friends were:  @@Vernon, @@Babs, @@Gretl
          in @@Ebermergen, perhaps meanwhile also @@Michelle in
          Dortmund.  He/it had admitted sufficiently friends and however
          the most important friendship never:  The friendship to his
          own Mrs., Lu.  She/it had said recently once to him/it:


          " Knowledge we not simply only friends be?  "


          Then was that for him/it fully absurd.  For Paul that was
          the most stupid @@Standardsatz for separations.  That
          friendship does not exclude love, that became him/it only now
          clear.  His search after friendship led him/it also to his
          well largest friend.  To his @@Ex - Mrs., @@Anne.  The
          conversations, which he/it led with her, were concentrated
          quiet and.  Without restraints, from the deep consciousness of
          their large intimacy out.  And then did him/it @@Anne the
          utmost favor.  She/it washed him/it purely from the fear, to
          be a more sadistic, more heartless, more selfish beater and
          @@Amokläufer.  @@Anne wrote him/it shortly before his return
          after Germany an affidavit for submission at court and the
          office for socials services in Hamburg, the information gave,
          over their personal estimate to the educational and paternal
          qualities Paul's.  @@Anne went so quite so far, that she/it
          phoned Lu in Hamburg, to set them/it/her from their
          @@Statement in knowledge.  @@Anne had had already always an
          especially soft kind and created it, to entangle Lu in a
          discussion.  She/it had tuned in the @@Mithöranlage of the
          telephone, so that Paul could listen.  "Each child needs a
          father, Lu.  Also @@Sean."


          " There extend if your daughters have a father,  "@@giftete
          Lu back.  "Paul and I divide us the custody of @@Kyra and
          @@Alicia.  Why do you not want that also so for @@Sean?"


          " If you worry about your children, I worry about my son.  
          Paul has hurled you yes anyhow everything in the pharynx.  
          I as the number two come for him/it first completely far
          behind @@dran.  "


          "And what becomes from @@Sean and his sister?"  asked @@Anne
          helplessly.  " Half-sisters, half-sisters,  "screamed it from
          the other end of the world.  "Therefore well, half-sisters.  
          You were with it in agreement however, that Paul holds so
          narrow contact to his daughters.  You have said them, that
          they are cordially welcome at you, that you feel like a mother
          facing them."


          " Stepmother.  Them are evil not only in the fairy tale,
           "grumbled Lu.  "@@Kyra and @@Alicia trust Paul.  You/They
          love him/it, although he/it lives so far away.  Why do you
          not want to make possible that also @@Sean?"


         " Because my son does not need that,  "@@fauchte Lu.  "My son
          needs no violent father.  If his brutality has made you so
          long joke, is that your matter."


         " you know exactly, Paul has hit me never.  "  After a short
          pause @@Anne said then softly:  "And I have hit him/it never."


          " If he/it has hit maintains I have him/it?  "


          "No, not he/it.  That have told me the children after their
          return from Germany.  Lu. the children flew, on own wish,
          without following to Germany.  A proof of courage and trust by
          one four and @@siebenjährigen, which is to be led back
          exclusively to the efforts for contact and proximity
          on the part of my @@Exmannes and my support of these efforts.  
          It is us, despite the extreme removal between @@Sydney and
          @@Ebermergen been successful, to make possible the contact of
          the father to the children maximum.  Paul phones up to three
          time in the week here in @@Sydney and gets the children two
          time in the year for six weeks to itself after Germany.  
          Statistically Paul seen sees and speaks, although through
          continents separately, his daughters more often and more
          intensely than the most fathers of the family, who live with
          their children together.  His care and his effort after
          harmony and trust are very greatly distinctive and give so the
          daughters a father, on whom they can trust and is it in all
          situations for them/it/her there."


          Paul had hear talk @@Anne still never so much.  She/it
          talked itself almost in Tower.  " He/it should take itself an
          only time for me and my son as much during as for his damned
          daughters,  "roared it from the listener.  However @@Anne
          entered neither into Lus clay, nor into their arguments.


          "The large linking and love of our daughters to their father
          rests on his ability, to mediate them absolute trust,
          tenderness, warmth and love.  Alike over which removal away.


         Paul lives together now almost three weeks here in @@Sydney
          with the children, my new @@Lebenspartner and me in that equal
          house.  I discover at him/it neither hate, nor anger or
          instability.  He/it is around harmony trying and quiet.  I can
          entrust Paul also today the children any time and be sure,
          that they live safe and harmoniously.  With him/it alone in
          Germany and also here in @@Sydney.  I would become My @@Exmann
          any time, if necessary, the custody of his children entrust.  
          I am sure, that they are picked up with him/it the best and
          that think and wish I me also for @@Sean" @@Vergiss it,  "came
          it from the loudspeaker and the direction was dead.


          "What have you made only, that she/it hates you so, Paul?"  
          @@Annes question came quietly and thoughtfully.  " As long as
          she/it is so evil you, you will reach nothing at all.  Here.  
          @@Nimm the explanation.  I wish you much luck with it.  But it
          will help probably not much.  "


          As Paul got this letter @@and the court of @@Anne, he/it
          wept for gratitude.  He/it was not gratefully over that, which
          she/it had written, but for the large affection, which hit
          him/it from the writing against.  Lu had abused the trust of
          his daughters shamefully.  She/it had taken them a
          @@Lebenshoffnung, without explaining why.  Paul was not her
the gull from Nuremberg, had not gone yes really, but only before itself
personally fled.  For him/it it was to be gone always easy been, for he/it
wanted to live no lies.  Perhaps his largest @@Lebenslüge was that.  
 Strangely, Lu behaved just as he/it, if he/it finished hard an affair.  
 He/it disappeared simply, so like them/it/her now.
"I had perhaps however right, with my expectation, that I am only a flash in
the pan for them/it/her."  That thought he/it also always at his affairs:  
" One day they wake up and see the sum of their errors.  Me!  "

As many women made he/it with this carriage unfortunately had could suspect
he/it only.  Now he/it felt, how then at @@Iza, the large pain the desertion.  
The knowledge, the desertions to be met him/it hard.  Whether Lu had
compunctions, was not him/it known.  He/it personally wanted however with the
hate, which the pain bore, nothing have to do.  He/it wanted to find the
quiet, to be able to evade human with the facts.  As Lu went finally, he/it
said her:

"Reading you never again in my proximity see, otherwise destroy I you.  I will
do everything, to destroy you."


Already ten minutes after Lu had gone, he/it regretted these sentences.  
He/it could destroy them/it/her yes not at all.  He/it did not want to hurt
her and did not understand, why he/it did it suddenly on so brutal, animal
kind.  He/it knew, that he/it would help her in conclusion however only, to
get their life in the handle.  He/it had to learn renounce only.  Help without
guarantee.  Help without expectations.  Friend be, to become so perhaps again
lovers.  However without guarantee.  Paul could confess itself finally, that
he/it had lost and felt, that his pain became at the edges soft.






CHAPTER TWENTYFOUR

'With the hope of a life in peace.'  So it stood sumptuously on the wrong
gravestone of the mother.  Almost he/it disgusted had then his couple of
@@Erdbrocken behind their coffin @@hergeworfen.  He/it could feel no mourning.  
Never.  He/it knew also, that he/it at the death of his father no mourning, no
pain would feel.  Or perhaps however?


Mourning - he/it was deeply sad, however he/it fell in no depression.  He/it
wept much.  He/it had to learn, to live with this mourning, for on the other
page of the dark mourning gives it light.  Paul was to be wept already
always capable been.  Sometimes he/it inserted his tears even as means to the
purpose.  No Mrs. @@ertrug @@Männertränen.  If Paul love really, he/it wept
without Lug and Carried.  He/it wept at @@Iza, he/it wept at Lu.  At
@@Anne he/it wept often secretly, quietly beside her lying, from mourning over
their @@Eiseskälte.  Sometimes she/it heard him/it then however, strokeed
softly, but hardly tenderly his nape and said:  "@@Sorry."


@@Trauerarbeit

He/it wept at the @@Principessa, as she/it said their only German word:  
" Grief.  "  After that she/it was brew and has in their @@Alfa @@gen Rome well
also wept.  The @@Principessa.  You/They had loved themselves wordlessly.  
Without language, only with the eyes, with the hands, the lips.  Still Paul
had always still the feeling, that he/it had understood itself still never and
never again so well with a Mrs..

@@Katjuschka, at the red place.  She/it had wept large, thick @@Kindertränen,
as he/it climbed in the bus to the airport.  He/it had only loudly in itself
@@hineingeflucht.  Over the country, which running down visa, the bondage and
his expectation, that he/it would drive never again to Moscow, because
@@Katjuschka owned no telephone.

@@Marina wept only once.  As she/it woke up and observed, that their
attempted suicide had failed.  Paul wept never with @@Marina.  With her
he/it was always only angry, over their carelessness, their abortions, their
fickleness.  Probable was @@Marina too young for it eighteen - year-old
@@Jungschauspieler.  Although both were immediately old.  Still he/it
drove back a year long in a @@klapprigen @@VW beetles daily the
@@hundertvierzig kilometers of @@Dinslaken after Wuppertal and.  Dear?  Over
@@Marina Paul wept first years later.  As he/it discovered, that she/it had
cost him/it four @@tränenlose years.


@@Diana @@Montaquue - he/it wept, as he/it stood at the rail of the ferry and
you waved to the departure.  She/it was the first girl, who had kissed him/it.  
First from pure gratitude, because he/it saved her the life.  You/They had
eaten @@Fish @@and chips and @@Diana got an allergy.  Their @@Oberlippe
swelled considerably.  Their radiating appearance was destroyed for life.  
Advice knew The @@Arztsohn Paul.  Ice @@drauf and @@Basta.  Their life and
their beauty were saved.  In the four weeks @@Sommeraufenthalt in @@Totton, at
@@Southhampton, became then wild @@Geknutsche and large longing after the
sixteenth birthday from it.  Did his affinity originate thus for
@@Anglosachsen?  Now, they were not yet drawn in then straight twelve years
old and Ludmilla was at home.

At @@Trixi his tears adjusted first in the memory.  So like at the medical
student @@Elisabeth.  He/it had not worked it up to the act.  Painfully.

The three waitresses in his life - well distributes on Austria, Germany and
the Switzerland - had given he/it always only a thick tip, if they wept as
he/it went.  His latest brother, @@Andreas was waiters.  Whether it also tip
took?


He/it wept The @@Pina pad dancer @@Josephine no tear afterwards.  "Them has
slandered me yes also," shot it him/it through the head.  She/it had gotten
sometime hemorrhages and since he/it had left them/it/her just, she/it
maintained in the hospital, he/it would have loved them/it/her so brutally,
that thereby well a @@Hämatom emerged, which was burst now.  She/it has
betrayed the treating doctors never, that she/it had jumped in the last
Wuppertals @@Tanztheaterproduktion, before which @@Sommerpause, each evening
from a meter amount in the @@Spagat.  That looked spectacular and only a
colorfast Australian goes to to the edge of the suicide for their @@Tanzkunst.  
@@Bühnenböden are hard, even with @@Tanzteppich.  Australians also, but
unfortunately often not in the taking.

@@Gesche?  @@Gehab you well.

@@Zlatika - the @@Lady @@Caroline from the @@Striptease bar.  There he/it wept
for luck.  The luck at the gipsys to be.
She/it came from @@Mostar.  Had studied medicine - perhaps.  Clever was
them/it/her.  But however crashed.  " @@Is itself much money,  "said
them/it/her only.  And one day said them/it/her him/it, after @@durchliebter
night:
"War I @@Hängebusen, already soon.  Am I old woman.  @@Nehm I money in trunks
and @@fahr back after @@Mostar.  Rich old Mrs..  Buys itself @@Porsche and
never again a man.  You are so young, much too young, to be killed with
@@Hängeflatschbusen."

She/it pressed his head between the wonderful hills, got dressed and went.  

He/it saw again them/it/her never.

He/it played @@Anuschka - there the @@Valmont from the dangerous after
@@Liebschaften.  Inserted his tears like a weapon.  Wrote letters like a true
@@Cyrano.  He/it was better than the actual performers in his productions.  
Yes, he/it was even better than the @@Valmont in the @@Briefroman.  She/it
wanted a child.  There he/it wept, for he/it had already two.  He/it had bound
@@Anuschka with deathly cold in itself.  Icy had he/it starved them/it/her in
@@Meiningen.  He/it did not know until today, why.  What had done them/it/her
him/it?  You/They love him/it.

@@Betty - dear, dear @@Schneeflocktraumfrau.  Their letters were jewels of the
tenderness.  Were it always still.  You/They had gotten lost never from the
eyes.  You/They chatted always still with each other.  If their cares informed
themselves, reconstructed themselves mutually, to leave become silent then the
telephone for days, months.  Somehow they were always still interrelated.  
Why?  Both demanded nothing of each other.  Both gave away and give always
still only their affection @@zueinander.  Friends, which itself well with
eighty, toothless smile at and understand always still.  @@Bettina had
been happy frankly for Paul, as he/it told her by Lu.  There was her the
necessary safety, the pain to @@ertragen, which she/it felt well always still.

@@Marja, which @@Czardasfürstin, which he/it had to put at the premiere under
the cold shower, because she/it had drunk champagne on sedatives.  @@Marja
wept the tears the @@Masuren.  Actual - she/it had been yes also pole, even
though in @@Bayreuth grown up.  Paul wept never for them/it/her, but only,
because he/it cheated @@Anne.

@@Mara - the gull, which sat now in Hamburg and waited for his return.  Up to
his departure from @@Sydney he/it had to find a way, to take her the fear.  
He/it wanted never again somebody @@verängstigen, shake to say nothing of rape
emotionally.  He/it longed for the conversations with her.  He/it longed for
the holy ointments, which organized them/it/her in the early sunlight.  He/it
missed their warm intelligence and their shrill scorn for it.  He/it stood
banished and watched her at the search.  He/it wrote no only letter to
them/it/her, since they had met again.  He/it phoned them/it/her, without
timing, without goal, without hope, without purpose.  He/it wanted to be her
near, without cramping them/it/her.  He/it suspected well, that he/it needed
@@Mara, because he/it was a man.  And she/it was completely Mrs..  He/it
wanted to have the possibility to the proximity of a Mrs., his age @@Ego.  
Paul swore itself, to abuse @@Mara never for his purposes and phoned
them/it/her again once.

And the namelesss?  You/They were only pale memories from times, in which
he/it screamed before solitude in his hotel room soundlessly.  In these times
he/it hung his heart like a flag in the wind and hoped.  On which?  For these
nameless girls and women from @@Esslingen, Munich, Basel, Prague and Wuppertal
he/it wept, because he/it could not remember of their names.















CHAPTER TWENTYFIVE


He/it thought with endless tenderness about this one Mrs., Lu, which had
given him/it so much power.  He/it thought with yearning love about his small
son.  No, the sun of Australia @@wärmte him/it and expelled so the anger,
which could exist only in the @@Eiseskälte, which had nested now as @@Eiszeit
at his Mrs..  Paul was also no more angrily on the father, who interfered
always in the wrong moment in things, which concerned him/it long since
nothing more.  No, Paul had progressed actually already on the way, to steer
his @@Lebenszorn finally in a positive direction.  He/it called constructive
aggression always his anger.  He/it had believed always, to reach with
@@kreativer anger is more and had to recognize now, that he/it cheated with it
only itself personally.  Dr. @@Brown had gotten him/it, itself his hate, to
write his anger simply by the soul and to burn the result then.  For even on
the way of the improvement his anger waited behind each new hope.  So he/it
sat down and screamed itself the faint from the heart.

@@Hexenjagd

Lu - @@Jane - synonym for nonsense, arrogance and Münch-hausens cheapest
lie.  Shallow decal histo-rischer, British misinterpretations.  
@@Engländerin, with the longing after Brazil, without knowing, how one spells
Brazil altogether.  Pioneer with gun permit.  @@Mary @@Popins without
@@Flugkraft.  @@Bombshell.  Empty sheath.  @@Tom teeth was right.  Confuses
love with @@Sex.  If a son bore, to progress important.  Makes love like a
drowning.  Equipped with the Inferior - @@keitskomplex of the unpropertied.  
Signs of the zodiac twin, life - @@zeichen trashcans.  In the half dozen more
cheaply.  Schreber-gartenvereins @@Stimmwunder.  Big landowner the
@@Talentlosigkeit.  Dual personality, which wants to roast in the hell and
mean however the heaven.  Heavens - for them/it/her an of the most expensive
hotels of the world:  @@Bürgenstock @@Plaza - Lucerne.  Produces pale
intelligence from spent nonsense.  If letters puts together to sentences,
which can explain only a British decadent illiterate.  Equipped with the wit a
@@Kamikazefliegers.  If a new nose wishes for, because the still worse becomes
than the old.  If their beauty explains to the ugliness, because she/it finds
them more beautifully.  Amazon with @@Oberlippenbart.  @@Kriegsvernarbt from
self - @@zerstörungswut.  @@Pubertierendes @@Pickelelend with @@achtund -
twenty years.  @@Spiegelblind - @@orgasmusfähig only before the own
reflection.  @@Schmerzverliebt from callousness.  If Lu talks, @@plätschert
only @@Schwedenjauche from the thirty-year war in the @@Gulli of their
simplicity.  If their laugh thunders, to frighten small children.  If deafness
screams, around them suit to @@kaschieren.  If a rusty @@Nebelhorns equipped
with the voice, which has strayed in the sunlight.  Well-beings only in the
dirt of the triviality.  Enjoys the mania English slovenliness.  Celebrated
callousness on @@Jaffakisten.  @@Lottermatratze for Under - @@legene.

Insatiable longing after money = force = safety = rowhouse = second cars =
reward = submission = @@Totstellen = fate = decease = Lu @@Jane = mud the
@@Herzlosigkeit.

Longing after @@sechzehnjährigen boys, who can them/it/her @@zureiten.  
@@Herrenreiterin on @@Schweinerücken.  The dearest standing and die in boots,
only in this way dies a genuine man in women's dresses.  Solitude is revenge
at all, which mean it well with her.  @@Mauert their @@Lebensmut behind the
@@Schutthaufen of their irrelevance an and hangs itself as bled white bat on
the @@eitlen flagpole their civil, British origin.  @@Schwanzlutscherin
without the courage to swallow.  @@Lady @@Godiva without hair, breasts and
horse.  Constantly in search of the checkerboard of the kings, on who she/it
may not once as farmer.  Member of the choir without @@Gruppendynamik, for it
with @@Solistenfrust.  Thief, which does not remember in @@Kaufhofträumen
@@suhlt and, that them/it/her only at @@Aldi @@klaut.  Traveling without
return.  Through @@Dauerfick to the @@Frustgranate.  Frigate without
anchorage.  @@Piratenhäuptling without bite and @@Seetauglichkeit.  Amputated
conscience.  Heartless @@Strassenkatze.  @@Angesyffte @@Gehirntote.  In the
own hopelessness drowned.  Between their ears is place for the @@Wagenrennen
from @@Ben @@Hur.  Dead fish, which a @@Gebirgspelikan disgusted @@ausgekotzt
has.  @@Ölpest the British @@Gewissenlosigkeit.  @@Mururoabombe, to be able to
live finally completely alone on the planet greed.  Lifés work:  Freezer.  
@@Lebensantrieb:  Hate.  Goal in life:  Dust of the oblivion.  The
unsuspecting devil, who has not gotten the about-face of God to the Islam.  
@@Doubelt their own puniness and expects itself for it a @@Oscar.  Actress,
with the famous board @@Oskar @@Kokoschkas between brain and mind.  Luder,
in search of a pimp.  She/it believes, it keeps closed their mouth, eyes and
nose.  Shallowly, @@eitelgeile priest their urgently @@not - nimble
@@Enthaarungskuren.  @@Nasenfotze.  Fornicate, which pays itself personally.  
@@Analfetischistin.  @@Windelsekret.  @@Asthmalahmes @@Fähnlein in the wind.  
On the right deaf, on the left deaf-mute.  @@Klitoraler @@Eisbrecher.  
Miscarriage a @@Supernova.  Shooting star behind the moon.
Solar eclipse of the folly.  STARLING.

As Paul burnt the written, an only thought jerked him/it through the head:
" Burn I just the father or perhaps even the fathers?  "  He/it knew exactly,
that he/it believed no only word actually.  But it did good, to create itself
the anger over his own lack of understanding so by the throat.  No, Lu was
the exact contrary of that, which he/it there @@ejakulierte.  The Lu them
he/it knew, not the @@Jane, which played them/it/her now already so long as
@@Hauptrolle of their life.
"It must be however possible, these @@Jane from the way to create" , thought
he/it and wrote with chalk on the @@Grillkohlen:  @@Jane.  Then he/it ignited
the coals and grilled the roast for the supper.  It tasted wonderful and by
@@Jane had remained nothing as ash.






























Release - learn, learn, learn, learn.  @@Kleinstschrittchen.  As his assistant
asked, @@Dejan, him/it, to clear like it for feels the @@Mercedes empty, there
would have howled he/it almost.  Yes how felt that?  Hard.  To the @@Kotzen.  
However he/it had to do it.  He/it had to release his latent materialism, to
be able to begin finally newly.  To embrace so also finally Lu no more with
poisonous @@Krakenarmen.  He/it had to give Lu freely, to receive so a new
chance, to master their crisis.  He/it had decided then spontaneously, to do
her the kindnesss and to submit the separation.  He/it wanted to be separated
not at all.  Never.  He/it did it for them/it/her, for the exclusive reason,
later say to be able to do:

" Was not I fine, @@hab I your orders faithfully does not follow?  If you
observe now, that I would not like to hurt you, you not long wants to
torment?  "

If she/it wanted to be divorced, then should take over them/it/her also the
exclusive responsibility for it.  He/it wanted to be no more the @@Buhmann,
but finally to his word stand.  Yes is called yes and no is called no.  So it
should be from now at.  Unmistakably.  No decisions more, to yield the
opposite number.  He/it had said at their wedding from full heart out yes.  
 Beside the yes to son @@Sean the only true yes in their relationship.  The yes
to @@Beehive was a clear no.  The yes to the @@Englandtrip @@Seans was a clear
no.  The yes to the exit from miller office was a tormented no.  The yes to
king and I was called no, which was called yes to @@Nonnsense @@II no and and
and and.  He/it said yes around they to hold, to quiet he/it said yes around
them/it/her, to be he/it said yes around nice and loved to become.  He/it said
yes and my no.  Awfully.  Release - Yes, but never again themselves
personally.  And so wrote he/it the first letter to Lu since long time.




@@SYDNEY 23 - 02 - 1996

Dearest Lu and @@Sean,
I wish, that you inform yourself about my suggestions, which I sent your
agent, through my agent,.  My inspiration, to close one" @@Healing
@@Seperation @@Contract  "with each other, the result of my daily, therapeutic
work at the @@Ellard is @@Practice here in @@Sydney.  The result these
@@dreiwöchigen" @@Crash @@and @@Shock - block @@Therapy  "is recorded by my
doctor, Dr. @@Keith Mains, in a professional, psychiatric expert opinion,
which will go your agent, immediately after receipt,.

I know very well, in which condition of pain and injury you momentarily
be found.
I would like, that you know, that I neither vexations, hate, disgust,
frustration, denial, revenge or similar feel against you.  I make me large
cares around your and @@Seans well-beings.  I have large respect before your
decisions, be them/it/her now for us, or against our common future.  I know
now, that we have gone both through a dark time of fear, stress, overtiredness
and anger, which us in conclusion to the incredible processes of the last time
has misled.  Which with us both has happened, does me from deepest soul
@@leid.  I would like to ask you for pardon and forgiveness, although I know,
that you need probably still very much more time, to leave the terrible wounds
cured.  I distribute you, without regretting it.  I had to discover here the
largest error of my whole life:  Yes to say, if I mean no, to do only around
my opposite number a kindness.  The fear, to lose which, which I love so very,
led at me to denial.  Instead of my partner to my best friend will to leave, I
made them/it/her to the bird in the golden cage.  The feeling, to be not good
enough, the spur was my destructiveness.  I have discovered now finally the
large power in me.  This power can destroy, or conduct.  I relearn now, this
power to @@benützen, to protect and to accompany, instead of them/it/her my
@@eignes and the life of others destroy to leave.  Yes, I own very much force
and power and am ready, this power by now at constructive and on a new, to
insert brightly illuminated way.  My hands are openly - they stroke only with
love.  My heart is open and protects now warmth and tenderness.  My eyes are
far open and see now, about what it goes.  My mind is open, to understand.  
My conscience is open, to receive your hate, your love, your fear, your
delight, your mistrust and your trust, your disgust and your longing.  My
hands are open, to hold you, to leave you gone, to stroke you, room to give
you, to drove around you and by you led to become, to protect you, to seduce
you, around you to warm.  My hands will remain open and form never again a
fist.  You/They will protect you, without capturing you.  You/They will be
used never again for it, to push somebody by me.  My poor are spread outed
like @@Adlerschwingen, to hot you and @@Sean welcome - at home.  My poor are
opened far, to leave you gone.  I have be locked far openly for the life and
my doors should never again.
I would like, that you hear very deeply in you in.  I will not look for for
you, as long as you fear.  I will not be you near, as long as you have fear.  
 I will not speak with you, as long as your bitterness produces so much hate in
you.
I come back at the latest at the 1. March after Germany.  I will be for you
and @@Sean there, to each time, which you hold for right.  I become for you
and @@Sean day and night, under my @@Mobilnummer, achievable be.  I can say to
you goodbye, or also welcome.  I love you and I love @@Sean and finally also
me personally.
Always your Paul - @@Daddy.
Paul faxed this letter to Lus agent, since the only was, it knew where one
could reach this them/it/her.  Indeed he/it informed him/it simultaneously,
that Lu without his consent kept the son at itself and traveled with him/it.  
Lu had maintained facing the agent always, Paul would have agreed with
their drives.  To the safety he/it sent him/it also still the friends in
Hamburg, at them Lu so long @@untergekrochen was.  He/it waited and it
remained awfully quietly on the other page of the world.



























CHAPTER TWENTYSIX

"Real am I not at all so bad, like I it usually maintain."  Paul
comprehended.  His @@Minderwertigkeitskomplex stopped had to increase.  His
fear before the life @@kaschierte the mask of the arrogance.  He/it
manipulated his fear before the breakdown with destroying sarcasm and
@@inquisitorischer know-all attitude.  He/it drowned his doubt at true love in
the liquor  "Me can love nobody.  I am not ingenious, although there maintain
so many, I am not attractive, I am no good producer, I have become a failure
and should @@Packetfahrer.  I am only show.  Sound and smoke.  If you come
behind it, you see only a large, black, empty hole.  @@Hau from, before you
come behind it, that I am nothing."  With it he/it had tormented Lu
for nights.  He/it displaced all good aspects of their relationship.  
Probably he/it did not want to be only the desertions.  No, from now at it
must are called:

" I am well in my profession, I am a good lover, I am a faithful friend, I am
the best man for you, whether marriage or not.  I am clever, I am warm, I am
cordial and I am faithful.  I can write wonderfully and must learn, which
write what I ++zu fulfill also.  I am no bad person.  I am no violent man, I
am no rapist, I am no alcoholic, I am not schizophrenic or paranoid.  I am
healthy and valuable for my environment. I like myself.  I like my hands.  I like my voice.  I like my
          tenderness.  I like my intelligence.  I like my writing.  I
          like my wit.  I like my love of my children.  I may to discuss
          my kind.  I like my sarcasm.  I like my @@Essensgeschmack.  I
          like my boiling.  I like my warmth.  I may to sleep my kind
          with a Mrs..  I like my @@schauspielerisches talent.  I like
          my power.  I like my imagination.  I like my eyes.  I like my
          warmth.  I may not to adjust my ability me.  I like my
          enthusiasm.


          I like my spontaneity.  "


          Were the twenty example?  He/it would have been able to
          continue still endlessly, so very liked he/it itself.  
          Sometime he/it had to write down once the history of lord
          @@Nessi.  Secretly Paul called itself now so.  The monster,
          lord @@Nessi, from which all talk, which has seen however
          still never somebody and spread that still fear and fears.  
          Yes, he/it had suddenly again many ideas, to new pieces and
          @@Musicals, to novels and fairy tales.  He/it had yes also
          time.  Much time.  Twenty-four hours were often years for
          him/it.  For @@Sean he/it wanted soon the @@Musical of
          Koko-Kroko, which @@Theaterkrokodil write.  As Paul sat so
          in @@Sydney, he/it began itself actually, for the first time
          in his life, to like right.  He/it held back no more.  He/it
          said and wrote which he/it thought and felt.  @@Sydney, his
          second birth.  And to this birth belonged it then well also,
          to concede finally, what he/it liked not.  He/it liked not no
          lies, did not loathe @@Humorlosigkeit, believed in natural
          nonsense, mistrust knew he/it.  He/it detested
          @@Karrieregeilheit and the from it resulting vanity.  Greed
          was him/it contrary to and who only from a @@Fick talked
          remained him/it always foreign.  @@Egomanen were for him/it
          always already an emetic.  Laziness a foreign word.  The
          avarice in the life like in the heart was him/it a gray.  
          From conspirators he/it kept away itself always.  He/it
          did not stand knew @@One @@night and wanted to get to know
          them/it/her also never.  Against blindness he/it struggled
          with all means, so like against the deafness.  Know-all
          attitude had to do for him/it only with selfishness, which
          turned then frequently into self-pity.  Since the trials at
          the @@sonntäglichen @@Frühstückstisch in Tyrol had become
          injustice a @@Lebenstatsache, which he/it did not admit for
          itself personally.  He/it left selfishness mostly on the left
          lie so like English grandparents. 


However the always still available, pulling pain in his
          @@Solarplexus relaxed only, if he/it raged.  Paul knew no
          hate in his life, however in the wide Australia hated he/it
          with a pleasure, which he/it hated 'Noch never so cordially
          gehasst' called.  It made him/it larcenous joke @@Autonarren,
          rapists, power in itself, to hate beaters, speed checks,
          sport, @@Einheitsfrass, wrong measure, deceit, schemers and
          his hate Lustvoll.  Further he/it did not come.  For
          suddenly he/it could scream only still:


          " I love @@Lü.


In the evening, after his @@Liebeserklärung, which he/it screamed @@lauthals
at the @@Harbour @@Heads in the harbor of @@Sydney the @@Westwind afterwards,
sat at the computer and began with the work at a new @@Musical with the title"
 @@Dreamachinë.  To make the work more easily, he/it inserted
for the time being Lus and his own name for the characters and was
astonished, how much room he/it suddenly again in his thought for his actual
work had.  The children slept happily and @@Anne argued to that x - @@ten time
vociferously with @@Mick over nothing. He/it wrote the whole night, like a hunted and was very
          content with the result.  For the first time since long time
          he/it had again once a feeling, at which he/it could remember
          hardly still.  Luck.


          As his daughter asked @@Kyra him/it at the next tomorrow, what
          he/it had driven for the whole night so, he/it mean only:


          " Want to hear you it?  "


          "You think I have written, one can hear that?"  asked
          astonishes the small @@Alicia.  " I have @@Songs written
           ", answered Paul.


          "But you can play however not at all piano," my @@Kyra dryly.  
          " But sing can I,  "said Paul cheerfully.


          "@@Mami, @@Daddy sings again," shouted @@Alicia over the
          staircase @@Anne, which progressed just in the bath finished.


          " Request not now, I am still in the bath,  "came it somewhat
          incoherently from the bathroom.  "@@Mami is still in the bath,
          @@Daddy.  Then you must sing just completely softly," my
          @@Alicia and @@wisperte like a professional conspirator.


          Paul took the both girls with out in the radiating
          @@Morgensonne, sat @@and the already warm @@Hauswand and took
          his both daughters on the left and on the right on the knees.  
          " The song is called @@Love @@is,  "said he/it softly.


          "you have written it in English?"  asked @@Kyra with an almost
          anxious expression in the voice.


          " Yes, so that also you can understand it, I have written it
          in English.  "  "You bring @@Daddy, when us again German at?"  
          asked @@Alicia.  " If you visit me again in Germany.  "


          "What is called 'Love is' in German, @@Dad?"  asked @@Kyra.  
          " Love is called,  "said Paul and the both girls repeated
          both the words and said:


          "That sounds beautifully.  Sing you it now?"


And Paul began to sing with his softest voice:

Those years of harmony
have made you cold?
Those years of cosiness and warmth.
Those days of laughter,
those nights of tenderness.
The many seconds of eternity
we shared have grown to despair?
Your love turned to hate
and in this state of mind
you punish me with nasty words,
you put your finger where it hurts,
you nurture your ego without cause,
you hear applause
from where there is no hand to clap.
You wrap your selfishness
in dreams of dreams.
Did you forget the time you said:
Love is.
Love is to let you go.
Love is to set you free.
Love is to hold you, but not tight.
Love is to care and stay aside.
Love is to share one moment of truth.
Love is the light to guide you
through the night.
Love is.
Love is.

Those years of eagerness
have now grown old.
Those years of happiness and trust.
Those days of future,
those nights of foolishness.
The many seconds of this ecstasy
we shared have made you unfair?
Your love changed to greed
and cause you need a fiend
you torture me and throw with mud,
you turn the knife and drink my blood,
you pamper your nightmare without care,
you want to chase
a dream which is no longer there.
You swear you are the only one who counts.
Did you forget the Time you said:
Love is.
Love is to let you go.
Love is to set you free.
Love is to hold you, but not tight.
Love is to care and stay aside.
Love is to share one moment of truth.
Love is the light to guide you
through the night.
Love is.
Love is.  
Love is to let you go.
Love is to set you free.
Love is to hold you, but not tight.
Love is to care and stay aside.
Love is to share one moment of truth.
Love is the light to guide you
through the night.
Love is.
Love is.
Love was
Love was you.
Love was you.

All three were long still very, as Paul had finished his
          song.  Then @@Alicia said suddenly on their inimitable dry
          kind:


          " That sounds @@OK, @@Daddy.  "


          "Become you it also Lu @@vorsingen, @@Dad?"  asked @@Kyra
          almost anxiously.  " I hope, that she/it will sing it one
          day,  "said Paul softly.  "But now loose, finishes you for
          the School."


          The girls jumped of it and Paul remained seated in the
          wonderful sun, heard like the girls completely excited their
          mother by the song told and that it is called in German 'Liebe
          heisst' means.  After @@Anne, @@Mick and the children
          said goodbye had up to the afternoon from Paul was it again
          awfully quietly in the large house.  Paul sat at the
          computer and read the written of the last night and as, to set
          immediately still a @@drauf spurted the 'Weinende tigers
          Tiger' from him/it.  The text ran in a piece, without
          thinking, without checking wrote down him/it Paul and was
          could write supremely content with that which he/it there
          finally again.  When and where he/it want to use him/it, that
          was not yet him/it clear.  However somehow the 'Weinende had
          to do tigers Tiger' also something with him/it.  He/it not yet
          know only exactly what.



















CHAPTER TWENTYSEVEN

Passage, bridges build, untrodden paths go.  Jointly or also alone.  In Lus
sun stand, but not in their shadow.  Lu should find also in his sun peace
and are choked no more, from his dark shadow.  Passage - over the wall see.  
With the wind fly.  @@Utopien feasible make.  Dream to the life rouse.  
Courage to the power.  By virtue of for itself personally.  By virtue of.  
He/it had woken up last night, so against four óclock, there suddenly and
immediately wide-awake.  The first birds chirped and the horizon colored
itself already pinkish.  He/it did not know, what him/it woke.  Had he/it
dreamt?  Paul could remember almost never of his dreams.  What had woken
him/it.  He/it crept in the living room down and discovered, that the computer
was at.  Why was the PC at?  Had @@Mick worked still and to switch off forget
him/it?  Paul sat at the desk and clicked the @@Bildschirmschoner from.  On
the screen a document emerged.  His own @@Schreibdokument.  He/it had
brought along from Germany his Secretly - @@diskette and wrote for hours,
while the girls were in the School.  Why had his program started?  He/it went
with the cursor to the last page of the document and wondered.  There stood
something, from which he/it knew still nothing.  Had he/it written that
personally?  In the dream?  Did he/it become now however mad?  Did he/it have
Consciously - @@seinsaussetzer?  @@Black @@outs?  Disconcerted began Paul to
read.









Lord Nessi

@@Eddi @@Mc nonentities had promised his mother, to fish never at the bank of
hole @@Ness.  @@Eddi was learned fish eight years old and had from his
grandfather, whom @@Clanführer the @@Mc @@Nullens, already with three years.  
@@Eddi won every year, in the spring, which Scottish Landesmeis-terschaften in
the @@Fliegenfischen.  He/it was a true master with the fishing rod.  None
could throw so far like he/it.  @@Eddi did not know, how he/it made that
actually.  He/it @@flippte simply the rod a couple of time there and here and
already flew his fly, as did not hang them/it/her on a fishing line.  He/it
got so the heaviest lumps from all stretches of water.  He/it did not need
very much power to it, for he/it used his hinge, completely unconsciously,
like a mighty lever.  Meanwhile studied whole @@Heerscharen of experts his
technology, however up to now could not decipher personally the university of
@@Oxford his mystery.  His largest mystery was however, that he/it prepared
his flies for special kind.  If he/it fish went trout, he/it diveed the flies
in gin.  For perches was simple Scotch good enough and for @@Hechte was
@@Single Paints the @@Zauberwort.  Since the @@Mc had @@Nullens since
centuries proudly of their small, but very famous @@Whiskeybrennerei were,
@@Eddi no problem, to come to the necessary reserve.  Only for the gin he/it
had to leave be fallen in always something.  Nobody knew, that grandfather had
tried @@Mc nonentities still never in his life his own @@Whiskey.  He/it was a
@@klammheimlicher @@Ginfanatiker.  Since this left not look indeed an
old-established @@Whiskeybrenner just very per - @@fessionell, held he/it his
passion secretly and the hiding-place his @@Ginvorräte knew only he/it
personally.  Thought he/it.  @@Eddi knew it also.  But there it just in the
large @@Ohrensessel of his grandfather lay, in which this now already for many
years almost exclusively day and night before itself argue @@hindöste, was it
for @@Eddi always an adventure, to adjust it point in time for his @@Ginraub.  
Today he/it wanted to catch really trout, but grandfather @@Mc nonentities had
not fallen asleep after the lunch simply and @@Eddi did not want to waste the
whole afternoon with it, to wait for his chance.  Therefore he/it crept
quickly to the @@Whiskeykeller, filled his @@Spezialflasche with the oldest
@@Single Depicts, grasped itself his @@Lieblingsrute and ran loose.  He/it
knew, that today a particular day was, for he/it had since the early morning a
remarkable @@Kribbeln in the stomach.  As @@Eddi at hole had arrived @@Ness,
he/it wondered.  He/it wanted really not at all here.  But somewhere must have
been he/it with his thought far off and had observed not at all, that he/it
had run directly to the only forbidden lake.  Natural had been @@Eddi with the
parents already once here.  Especially then, if again a couple of
@@Nessiforscher had set up their tents.  He/it found these maniacs from all
Messrs. countries completely funnily, if them/it/her there with their
@@selbstgebastelten submarines behind the monster @@herdüsten.  He/it did not
believe in monsters and already not at all in that from hole @@Ness.
But the lake had any one remarkable radiation.  So completely well he/it felt
in his proximity still never.  However today stood the sun radiating at the
@@tiefblauen @@Sommerhimmel and since he/it was now already once here, he/it
could try yes also his luck.  He/it wanted to throw out just his hinge, as a
small rowboat drove at the bank.  The boat was empty, but it looked so, as if
recently still somebody had rowed with it.  @@Eddi pinched the eyes together
and watched the bank from, whether he/it could discover somewhere the owner of
the boat.  But there was no @@Menschenseele extensive and broad.  From a
strange impulse out, @@Eddi climbed suddenly, along with his
@@Angelausrüstung, in the boat and began on the lake @@hinauszurudern.  The
smallest breeze did not stir and was rather hot it.  @@Eddi came right in the
sweating, however he/it wanted to in the middle of the lake, since he/it
supposed there them best fish.  Final was it so far.  @@Eddi drew in the helms
and grasped after his fishing rod.  From a sudden intuition out he/it diveed
the fly once more in his @@Whiskeyflasche.
" About so a @@Spezialtag should have the fish also really somewhat of it,
  "thought he/it and took personally a small swallow from the bottle.  @@Eddi
had been quieted already as baby with @@Whiskey and @@Single Paints liked
he/it especially gladly.  He/it sat surely in the middle of the small boat and
threw out the hinge.  In the glistening sunlight the fly flew, like a
@@Minidüsenflugzeug, @@pfeilgeschwind densely over the @@Wasseroberfläche and
sank after approximately hundred meters in the tides.  The sun stung from the
heaven, no Loudly got upset and @@Eddi @@spulte slowly and cautiously the
line.  Sometimes he/it moved the rod completely softly, he/it knew, that his
fly looked so how alive and the fish more easily on it @@hereinfielen.  He/it
took itself twenty minutes time, to fetch back the fly.  Again and again
@@Eddi threw out his hinge, however no only fish appeared today bite to want.  
After almost two hours on the lake, align @@Eddi once loudly on, so like he/it
it from his grandfather had learned and threw the hinge sullen in the boat.  "
That does not give it however.  Who am I for.  Where are her damned fish,"
 resounded it over the lake.  " Comes finally here, their coward.  "

@@Eddi bowed over the @@Bootsrand and to look tried deeply in the lake.  
He/it sank even his head under water and held, with far torn up eyes, after
any fishing lookout.  However it was to be discovered simply nothing.  As
he/it pulled, @@nacht air snapping, the head again from the water, the heaven
had changed totally.  Where did the thick clouds come suddenly here?  @@Eddi
had seen still never so pitch-black thunderclouds.  It was still calm always,
but it lay a strange clay over hole @@Ness.  The clouds were piled up at the
edges @@schwefelgelb and them/it/her, as by a @@Riesenfaust pushed, furiously
one on the other.  @@Eddi knew, that storms drove the fish at the surface and
so threw out he/it a last time his hinge.  Hardly the fly had sunk, to jerk
began the blinker how madly.  However suddenly he/it drove again motionless on
the soft waves.  @@Eddi wanted to bring in already the fishing line, as it
began to simmer around around the blinker furiously.  The water was churned
apparently by a sudden swirl so.  @@Eddi understood the world no more.  What
happened here?  With a time the blinker disappeared in the depth of the lake.  
The fishing line @@spulte itself in a such speed from, that the thread began
to @@qualmen.  @@Eddi became it now a little @@mulmig.  Which he/it had there
at the hinge, powerful extents had to have.  With the courage of the born
fisherman @@Eddi withstood however the pressure of below and the small rowboat
whizzed, like a powerboat, in the circle around the whole lake.  @@Eddi stood
@@breitbeinig in the middle of his fragile boat and @@stemmte itself with all
power against the bench, to not be tear merely from the boat.  Suddenly the
train relaxed of below and @@Eddi would have lost almost the balance, so
surprising came the relaxation.  It was @@totenstill, only the strange clay
hung always still threatening in the air.  Carefully @@Eddi began the line to
bring in.  Did the gigantic fish have, or which always it was, about from the
hinge broken away?  There the swimmer emerged also again, however the line had
always still no pressure.  @@Eddi attracted easily with the rod and like from
cheerful heaven catapulted itself a gigantic, black Something, like a
@@Killerwal from the lake, climbed highly in the air, executed three perfect
@@Saltos and crashed with large weight back in the water, where it then, how
lifelessly, on which @@Wasseroberfläche drove.  @@Eddi stood, with
@@sperangelweit open mouth, in his boat and could not grasp it.  What was
that?  What had he/it gotten there from the reason of the lake.  About however
the monster?  Did there was this nightmare for really?  Only now noticed
@@Eddi, that the @@dräuenden had moved thunderclouds themselves.  The sun
stood already deeply in the west and from the mountains came the first, cool
@@Abendhauch.  Carefully @@Eddi approached that softly before itself
@@hinschaukelnden monsters.  The more closely he/it approached the thing from
the depth, the more clearly could put out he/it his outlines.  Which
@@glitzerte there so in the @@brandroten @@Abendlicht?  The thing appeared
strewn with small @@Leuchtpunkten.  @@Eddi kept in sure removal and rowed
slowly around his capture around.  Now he/it recognized also, that the
nuisance was covered over and over with multicolored shells, crab and
@@Seespinnen.  It did not look like a fish.  It had altogether no similarity
with an aquatic animal.  What was that?  The monster not yet stir always and
so decided @@Eddi, completely slowly at the bank @@zurückzurudern, with the
monster in the @@Schlepp.  Hopefully his fishing line held the heavy load,
until he/it reached the bank.  With his capture in the @@Schlepp it rowed
itself rather with difficulty for the small @@Eddi.  The thing had to be
at least two meters long and was surely @@einhundert kilo heavy.  However
which already @@Hemmingway had described so grandiose, that created at this
@@Sondertag also the small @@Eddi @@Mc nonentities.  Still he/it was exhausted
rather, as he/it pulled the boat at the sure @@Kiesstrand.  He/it gave
something else more line and put itself with his hinge on a small hill at the
edge of the lake.  Cautiously he/it began the line to bring in.  He/it moved
his rod thereby before and back and produced so an easy there and here wings
of his prey.  With a sudden jerk of the rod he/it brought his capture so in
excursion, that he/it rose on the @@Kiesstrand.  @@Eddi released a true
@@Wolfsgeheul before enthusiasm.  Respectfully he/it approached now the
monster.  It lay always still motionless in the bank.  @@Eddi tried to
find out, where at the thing in front and behind was.  @@Eddi could discover
also nowhere gills, therefore could not deal it with a fish.  Really the
formation looked sooner like an oversized @@Miesmuschel.  Shell, that had to
be it.  He/it had caught a shell.  But how could jump for a shell from the
water and turn @@Saltos.  Helplessly @@Eddi scratched itself at the head and
approached something else more closely his shell.  "If it is a shell, then
must be to be cracked them/it/her also," murmured he/it before itself there
and knocked softly on the tank.  Momentarily the many small @@Glühpunkte heard
to light up and @@Eddi drove frightened back.  There he/it discovered, that
two points stopped had to glimmer not.  You/They were larger than the others
and was found at the part of the shell, which lay still under water.  Only now
noticed @@Eddi, that the fishing line ran to a point under these eyes.  " Eyes
- that are eyes,  "drove it @@Eddi through the head.  He/it approached two
steps more closely the @@Wasserrand around better see to be able to do.  The
lighting of the both points became now stronger, no, more intense.  Like
phosphate they lighted.

"The thing lives.  You live yes, you shell you," @@hauchte @@Eddi seized and
strokeed softly over the tank.  However in the moment, in which he/it drove
with his hand under water, did it an awful @@Knacks, which to in the forests
around @@Edinburgh around was to be heard.  Before fright @@Eddi sat on his
@@Hosenboden, rattled itself quickly again highly, stormed on the small hill
and threw itself in coverage.  The crash intensified itself now and through
the pompous fingers before his face saw @@Eddi, how the tank began to
break open, in direction of the yellow eyes,.  It crashed and split, it
@@gellte and screamed.  @@Eddi would have sunk the dearest in the floor,
however which there before his eyes happened, held him/it so in spell, that
he/it how rooted @@liegenblieb.  The tank @@zerbarst, like under large
pressure.  @@Eddi flew the @@Krustenteile like @@Schrapnellsplitter around the
ears.  However sudden it was again awfully still.  A moment long did itself
nothing at all and then rose suddenly the monster of hole @@Ness from the
water.  It was enormously large, approximately @@einsachtzig estimated @@Eddi,
had amber @@Rastahaare, @@gelbleuchtende eyes, which however now, as they
emerged from the water, azure became.  The nose was Greek beautiful and in the
beard hung thousands of @@Mikroperlen.
" @@Whiskey,  "thundered it from the @@Bartgestrüpp.  "Where is the @@Whiskey."  
The monster sat slowly, but with mighty steps in direction @@Eddis hills in
movement, took the rise with a step and set up itself highly over @@Eddi.  
" @@Whiskey,  "came again the voice from the other world.  "I @@ho.  ..  @@ho.  
.  @@hol him/it," stammered @@Eddi and took both legs in the hand, to rage to
the small boat, in which he/it had lie always still his bottle.  He/it grasped
itself the bottle from the boat, made on the distribution sweeps and ran the
hill up.  Without examining the monster, @@Eddi contrasted him/it the bottle.  
The monster took them/it/her him/it, almost tenderly, from the hand, cancelled
itself once with the gigantic hand over the beard and set the bottle.  @@Eddi
mean, webs between the fingers of the monster seen to have.  However what was
that altogether for a monster?  It had two legs.  Like he/it personally.  Two
poor.  Like he/it personally.  Mouth, nose and eyes and under the
@@Rastahaaren, which woven appeared like from seaweed, under it hid certainly
also ears.  Like at him/it.  The monster looked, like each other Scot for a
long @@Whiskeywochenende.  But @@Eddi had fished it.  What was here loose?  
How did this man come, who stood there @@breitbeinig before him/it and left
run lovingly the @@Whiskey in his throat, how came this man in a shell to the
reason of hole @@Ness.  How could he/it survive there, where he/it was however
no fish and also no shell.  " I believe I should go however once to the
@@Schulpsychologen,  "thought @@Eddi.  "I have drunk however today nothing.  
On in any case no more, as for a @@achtjährigen Scots is good," quieted he/it
personally.
" @@Single Paints,  "came the dark voice the @@Muschelmannes.  "And still to it
one from the barrels of @@Mc nonentities."

" you know @@Mc nonentities?  "  @@wisperte @@Eddi.
"Since @@hunderten of years.  How does you be called my son?"
" @@Mc nonentities,  "came it promptly from @@Eddi and the monster caught

rumbling to laugh at.

His laugh tore grandfather @@Mc nonentities from the sleep.  He/it listened
and called after his Mrs..  However them was since twenty years dead and only
in his imagination still at the life.  Grandfather @@Mc nonentities had
belonged the laugh already often.  He/it knew, whom it belonged.  This laugh
was the reason, why he/it drank no @@Whiskey.  A Scottish Say reports from a
@@Clanführer in the sixteenth century, which burnt it best @@Whiskey of the
whole kingdom.  These @@Clanführer took itself however, @@liebesblind, a witch
from England to the Mrs..  Them forbade him/it the @@Whiskey and trained
him/it on gin.  As she/it caught their man however one day, as he/it drank
secretly his loved @@Whiskey, she/it would raging so English, that she/it
killed him/it with a @@Streitaxt from whale and his remnants the fishing in
hole Devoured left @@Ness to that.  Since then there is also no fish more in
this lake.  Them Say reports also, that these @@Clanführer had laughed even,
as the English witch hit him/it the head of the body.  He/it could not believe
it to finally, that him/it, the Scot, an English Mrs. hit.  As grandfather
@@Mc nonentities in a London hospital cured his injuries from the first World
War, there fell in love he/it in an English nurse and married them/it/her.  
 Then he/it had forgotten them Say almost.  But as his wife in the first
@@Hochzeitsnacht instead of love demanded gin by him/it, there came also
grandfather @@Mc nonentities in the brooding.  Never again he/it has after
this night the @@Whiskey @@gefrönt.  Quickly he/it grasped now in his secret
@@Stuhlversteck, got out a bottle of gin and got drunk senselessly.
The sun had sunk meanwhile behind hole @@Ness and the first stars glittered in
the clear @@Sommernacht.  The monster, which a completely normal Scot was,
licked the last drops the noble @@Whiskeys from the bottle and returned these
at @@Eddi.  "He/it said thanks" kindly to the marvelling boy.  Then his look
over hole got lost @@Ness, in which itself caught the last sunbeams.  He/it
looked suddenly very sadly and @@Eddi mean, to see a small tear in that argue
eye of the monster.  " I am lord @@Nessi.  "
@@Eddi frightened before this voice, which appeared to come now from the depth
of the lake.  She/it was harsh and however sharp like steel.  But it resonated
also melancholy and warmth in her.  It was the voice of a man, who had learned
much grief and was finished it with it not yet.  "you wonder well, small @@Mc
nonentities, what here happens."  " If it is completely simple however,
  "spurted from @@Eddi.  "I was at the hinge, then bit a shell and behaved like
a @@Killerwahl, then brought I them/it/her ashore and instead of a pearl were
you in the shell.  Understands however each.  Or?"

" Understand you it?  "  asked lord @@Nessi.
"No!"  came it promptly and frankly from @@Eddi.

Lord @@Nessi sat on the crest of the small hill and to tell began softly:
" It was once a cheerful young man.  He/it love the life, his seventeen
daughters and mostly his very beautiful Mrs..  He/it lived here, completely
nearby on hole @@Ness.  Hole @@Ness was a @@fischreiches stretches of water
and his source was the basis for it best @@Whiskey of the British islands.  
No Irishman approached ever the taste this @@Whiskey.  Now, @@John @@Jamison,
the good old friend, it approached dangerously closely.  The water and the
burner heart, that is the soul a genuine @@Malts.  Which the cheerful Scot was
not knew, that his wonderful Mrs. was a creature of the devil.  How since then
all women on this world.  She/it forbade their man the @@Whiskey and forced
him/it to gin.  A horrible thought.  However the Scot could not be diverted
from his appeal.  Although he/it knew the hate of his Mrs., he/it love
them/it/her with each fiber of his heart.  He/it could be hit even from this
Mrs., what kind of Scot as good as the death is and pardoned her, that she/it
bore him/it no son.  One day the cheerful Scot got drunk and drove, in a dark
night, out on hole @@Ness.  He/it had loaded his boat with that best barrel of
@@Whiskey from his rich cellar and wanted to drink itself on the lake to
deaths.  However good @@Whiskey kills no genuine man.  As the Scot observed
that, he/it did a large oath.  If he/it should survive this night, then
wanted to struggle he/it the remainder of his life against all witches and
@@Teufelsweiber of this world, as long as, until God has an understanding and
cuts that best man of the world a new @@Eva from the ribs.  Then he/it emptied
his barrel to on the reason and fell backwards in the water.  Leaden sank
he/it in the tides and were seen never more.  "


"Until today," @@Eddi whispered devoutly.
" Believe you in fairy tales, @@Mc nonentities?  "
"Since today," said @@Eddi breathlessly.
" You have done @@Whiskey, why @@Whiskey at your fly.  Do you not know for,
that only @@Whiskey rouses a dead Scot again to the life?  It went me well
there below.  I had much joke, especially with the @@Welsen.  That are good
fighters.  Why have you roused me, @@Mc nonentities?  "

"My grandfather drinks gin."  Said @@Eddi heroically.  He/it wanted to say
that really not at all, but he/it knew, how very his grandfather under it
suffered.  Already as small child he/it wanted to help grandfather so gladly.  
But when always he/it tried it, the grandmother appeared from the picture of
the chimney jump to want.
" A @@Mc nonentities, the gin drinks.  That is therefore the mystery.  If
small @@Mc go home, nonentities and bring your grandfather a small present.  "  
With a mighty sentence lord jumped off @@Nessi of the crest and @@hechtete in
the water, submerged and had disappeared.  However already little later the
water and lord simmered @@Nessi shot from the water, turned a wonderful
@@Salto and landed directly beside @@Eddi on the @@Hügelkuppe.  In the hand
he/it held a @@muschelverkrustete @@Whiskeyflasche, which he/it handed @@Eddi.  
"Here, my boy.  Give me them/it/her your grandfather.  He/it will understand
and suffer never again.  If lord say him/it also, @@Nessi is on the way after
London.  Now your parents go, otherwise worry still about you."

" Much luck,  "murmured @@Eddi and ran loose, straight home and in the living
space of his grandfather.  It lay, half from the recliner fallen and snored in
his gin bottle.  @@Eddi tried the old man to wake, however it did not
was successful him/it.  Laboriously he/it scratched the shells by the bottle
and as she/it was finally clean, he/it discovered, that she/it was from
very beautiful crystal.  @@Nessis @@Single Paints - @@the @@finest 1687 - was
engraved on her skillfully.  "1687" whispered @@Eddi @@andachtsvoll and solved
carefully the @@Kristallkorken.  Momentarily the whole room filled with a
wonderful perfume.  Sharp and however sweetly, with difficulty and easily
at the same time.  Like mists the perfume in @@Eddis pulled nose and made
him/it easily dizzy.  Grandfather @@Mc nonentities rubbed itself distractedly
the eyes.  Hardly the perfume was him/it in the nose penetrate awakened he/it.  
He/it saw his grandson happily smiling on the floor sit, the bottle saw in his
hand and suspected, that today Christmas was.
" What have you become there for a bottle,  "asked he/it, fully sober.  "A
present."
" From whom,  "growled the old one.
"From lord @@Nessi."
Involuntarily grandfather grasped himself @@Mc nonentities at the heart.  
" What do you know from lord @@Nessi?  "
"Only, that he/it is no monster and that I should report you, he/it be now on
the way after London."

" @@Hä?  "  made the old man only.
"That should report I you and give you the bottle."

Cautiously grandfather took @@Mc nonentities the bottle in the hand, held
them/it/her, like a precious gem, against which soft @@Kerzenlicht, led
them/it/her slowly at his nose and began supernaturally to smile  "He/it is on
the way after London," rejoiced he/it.  " He/it is actually on the way after
London.  "

He/it revolved to the picture of his Mrs. over the chimney and contrasted
him/it the @@Kristallflasche.  Long he/it sat so and held the bottle in the
amount.  There the picture began at the wall suddenly to tremble, shadows
scurryed over the face of the morose old Mrs. and ultimately slid it from his
hook and @@zerbarst at the @@Granitboden.  The old @@Mc nonentities bent, the
fragments wiped to the page and raised the frame.
"May present I.  Your grandmother.  My loved Mrs. @@Beth @@Mc nonentities."  
He/it @+rich @@Eddi completely tenderly the picture and this discovered now,
that apparently under the picture of the old Mrs. a second hides held.  It
showed a very beautiful, softly smiling Mrs..  From their eyes warmth and
tenderness, shined so much that @@Eddi became completely warm us heart.  " you
is so beautiful and.  ....  so well,  "@@wisperte @@Eddi and his grandfather
took the picture again in itself, put it in the middle of the table, so, that
both there could see well, shuffled to the closet and got two noble
@@Whiskeygläser.  He/it filled @@Andachtsvoll them/it/her from the
@@Kristallflasche, extend a his @@achtjährigen grandsons and to tell began by
his Mrs..  He/it told from the Mrs., who he/it had gotten to know then, after
the war,.  Not from the Mrs., who hung over the chimney and had spoken about
them he/it since twenty years with nobody.  He/it told the whole night and
drank with his grandson the @@Whiskeyflasche empty.  As he/it had poured the
last both glasses, he/it got up, lifted solemnly his glass and said:

"On lord @@Nessi.  On the man, who is on the way after London."  He/it emptied
the glass in a train, went to his old @@Grammophon, turned at the crank and
finally heard @@Eddi the music, which he/it could hear never, because his
grandfather forbade categorically, that he/it went to the old turntable.  The
@@greise @@Mc nonentities, which had become in this night as young as before
seventy years, went to the table, bowed to the photo of his Mrs., took the
picture tenderly in the arm and began to dance.  @@Eddi sat at the table and
watched the old young man and has forgotten this night never again.

In the next weeks all newspapers of the country reported almost daily on the
man, who called himself lord @@Nessi and was on the way after London.  
You/They reported always only, that lord had happened @@Nessi again in a city
on that far off after London.  In each city lord went @@Nessi directly to the
municipal park, put itself on a small @@Holzkiste and waited dumb.  There
itself the customer of his appearance quickly @@herumsprach, filled the parks
very quickly.  Lord @@Nessi brought everywhere, with it equal gesture, which
said @@Menschenmassen to deathly silence and after a long pause, in which
he/it appeared to examine each individual person, only an only sentence:

" I am on the way after London.  "
Then he/it climbed from his chest and approached from the park, from the city,
his next goal.
The whole island @@rätselte, which lord wanted @@Nessi in London.  There had
developed already @@Fangruppen.  Scientists calculated, when lord would arrive
@@Nessi in London.  At that 22.  July would be that.  The London hotels were
for this day all booked up and also in the circuit of @@einhundert kilometers
was no room, no cranny, to find no ceiling more.  The London police allowed
the establishment of @@Zeltstädten in the many parks.  It was a mood, which
fluctuated between helplessness, euphoria and fear.  Lord @@Nessi was on the
way.  He/it did nobody something to grief, spoke with nobody, smiled only from
his azure eyes and marched on London to.  He/it was accompanied meanwhile by
helicopters and police columns, to put surely, that he/it was however not only
a terrorist, who had hidden somewhere before London his weapons, to murder
then the queen.  It would have been many Britons dearer, he/it would have the
prime minister in the visor, but the experts of @@BBC were themselves united,
if altogether, must be it the queen.  Grandfather @@Mc nonentities did not
trouble the hysteria.  He/it knew, what lord intended @@Nessi and was freshly
falls in love in his very beautiful Mrs., with who he/it fed now evening and
dared after that also still a @@Tänzchen.  @@Mc nonentities was the happiest
man on the whole world.

At that 22.  July happened lord @@Nessi actually in London.  He/it became,
from a gigantic @@Menschenmenge, already at the city limit receive and
prepared itself laboriously his way through the exultation of the persons.  
Them there did not rejoice knew altogether, why they were so euphoric.  
However personally the Japaneses forgot on this day their cameras and shot no
only picture.  First many years later discovered the historians the @@Yale
@@University, that from the man, who called himself lord @@Nessi, no only
picture existed.  For any an inexplicable reason, had neither the television,
nor the press ever pictures collected.  All stations of radio and @@TV were
represented of course, with all relevant press agencies, at lord @@Nessis
entrance in London, however nobody had a camera thereby.
Around point twelve óclock happened lord @@Nessi in the @@Hyde park and went
directly to the @@Speakers @@Corner.  There a small black chest was set up,
with a @@Mikrofon before it, which should transfer @@Nessis voice in the whole
world.  Lord @@Nessi went @@geradewegs on the chest, climbed them/it/her and
made his, meanwhile famous gesture.  Momentarily the whole mankind
become silented.  Breathless calm lay over the globe and lord @@Nessi looked
in each face.  Even in @@Sydney the persons thought, now sees he/it just me in
that

Heart.  What kind of moment.  Lord @@Nessi closed shortly the eyes, opened
them/it/her completely slowly again and said then:

"I am in London."

Speaking, climbed from the chest and progressed on the way from the city.  An
outcry went through the world.  Everywhere the persons fallen themselves
before luck in the poor.  Women screeched like hysterical @@Popfans.  It was
like the opening of the paradise.  The whole day and through the whole night
was celebrated worldwide and nobody, besides lord @@Nessi, knew why.  Like a
wildfire it went about the world, that lord had not yet left @@Nessi London.  
Helicopters had discovered, that he/it had sat down under a @@Themsebrücke on
a bank and waited there quietly.  Hourly the news was transmitted, that lord
sat @@Nessi always still on his bank at the Thames.  The Thames itself was an
only @@Blumenmeer.  The people threw everything which they find could at
blossoms in the river, to greet so lord @@Nessi.  It was a beautiful picture,
which captured nobody.  At that 23.  July, around ten óclock in the morning,
came again the news, that lord @@Nessi on the way.  How already at the
@@Vortag the persons streamed behind him/it here.  However today, at this 23.  
July 1987 did not go lord @@Nessi to the @@Hyde park, no, it pulled him/it to
the cemetery of @@Westminster.  The world stopped the breath.  If this was
here only an ingenious charlatan, which had itself with an only sentence a
@@Millionengemeinde @@erkauft, or was this however a man, who had to say
really something.

As lord had reached @@Nessi the cemetery, he/it turned around shortly and made
his famous gesture.  The quantity hardened and did not follow him/it through
the @@Friedhofstor.  Lord @@Nessi went purposefully on a small, very, very old
grave, bent, to wipe the dust of the centuries of the @@Grabplatte and knelt
itself before the grave down.
On the @@Grabplatte stood, in weather-beaten @@Lettern:  @@Gwendolynne @@Nessi
to the disgrace damns.
A.D.  23.Juli 1705.
Long lord stared @@Nessi at the paled writing.  Ultimately he/it got deeply
air and began, unmistakably, for all persons of the world audibly, to speak.  
 He/it told the person the history by his Mrs. @@Gwendolynne, which dispensed
him/it secretly @@Zauberkräuter, to leave him/it created so only girls.  For
she/it hated each man of the world and wanted to pull with their seventeen
daughters against the men of the world to fields and destroy them/it/her on
always.  He/it told them from his life on the reason of hole @@Ness.  He/it
told them from the soul the @@Whiskeys and from his curing power.  He/it told
from love and longing, from dreams and @@Utopien.  He/it told his life, his
death and his future.  And completely at the conclusion said he/it:

" And now must do I, which only a man can do.  "

Lord @@Nessi turned around slowly to the grave of his Mrs., lifted with an
only hand the heavy disk of the grave and climbed, under which shocked outcry
of the mankind to his Mrs. down.  Already after few moments he/it emerged
again from the grave and held a rib of his Mrs. in the hand.  He/it pushed the
disk again on the grave, put itself on them/it/her and pulled a @@dolchartiges
knives out.  With the knife he/it progressed, densely under that argue
@@Rippenbogen, a long, clean cutting, stretched with the left hand the tight
skin and advocated the rib.  In all countries of the earth an outcry went
through the @@Frauenwelt.  Still during the women in the agony screamed, they
sank to all to floor and @@hauchten their life from.  No only Mrs. remained at
this 23.  July at the life.  The men stood dumb and disconcerted.  Lord
@@Nessi turned around a last time to the grave of his Mrs. and said tenderly:

"And still love I you."
Then lord went @@Nessi.  He/it left London, left England, wandered over the
boundary after Scotland and reached already soon hole @@Ness.  One has seen
him/it never again and no person spoke since that time per again about the
monster of hole @@Ness.

In that night, in the lord @@Nessi on always had disappeared, @@Eddi watched
@@Mc nonentities in the middle of the night frightened on.  The night was mild
and starry and @@Eddi rubbed itself amazes the always still hurtting eyes.  
He/it had wept very much for the so suddenly late mother and also his
@@Schulpsychologin missed he/it very.  From the distance the wind carried
him/it a strange clay.  @@Eddi knew this clay.  It sounded exactly so, as at
that day, as he/it lord @@Nessi, which @@Frauentod had fished.  The clay
became always more intense and pulled @@Eddi from the bed and out in direction
of hole @@Ness.  @@Eddi ran how still never in his life and reached already
soon the bank of the sad lake.  The moon was reflected silver in the easy
waves.  From the width of the lake the small rowboat drove softly on @@Eddi to
and put, as by @@Geisterhand led, softly at the bank at.  Like under pressure
wanted to climb @@Eddi the boat, however there noticed he/it a small bundle,
which lay under the bench.  Carefully, like around not bitten to become, he/it
lifted the bundle from the boat.  It was not very heavy and however had it a
strange weight.  @@Eddi put the bundle in the soft moss and opened it.  
Before him/it @@tagealtes lay a, hardly, bare baby, who examined @@Eddi from
large eyes.  " @@Eddi whispered a @@Babymädchen,  "seized and strokeed the girl
softly over the minute face.
"Hello, I have are called @@Eddi @@Mc nonentities and you become

@@Gwendolynne, but I will call you @@Lynne."

@@Eddi love these @@Mädchennamen, since he/it had learned, that @@Miss had
been called @@Buttock, his late @@Schulpsychologin, so.

@@Eddi pressed the small girl a tender kiss on the forehead and received from
her for it a radiating smile.  @@Gwendolynne smiled that equal smiles sixteen
years later, at the day, than them/it/her @@Mrs.  @@Eddi @@Mc nonentities
became and came their first daughter, with that equal smiles, at one 23.  
July to the world.













CHAPTER TWENTYEIGHT

Paul sat over three weeks long in @@Sydney before the computer.  He/it sat
daily over Dr. @@Fishers book.  He/it worked in itself, his book, his life,
his children, his relationships, his future, his death.  He/it sat daily
for hours in the room and had only itself personally.  Seven hours only itself
personally.  Now and then Dr. Mains, this wonderful decal a psychiatrist.  
 This friendly man, who listened him/it so unselfishly and made it him/it daily
new courage.  The psychiatric expert opinion, which composed Dr. Mains over
him/it, made him/it to a boring @@Normalo, which was to everything abundance
also still a @@Hete.  Perhaps he/it should propagate, after his arrival in
Deut-schland, however his idea of the @@Minderheitenbeauftragten for
@@Heterosexuelle in the Bundestag.  Not schizoid, schizophrenically, paranoid,
no indication on insanity, inclusively alcoholism.  The both outbreaks of
power were evidently isolated individual cases, resulting from the situation.  
 He/it had to become only with his latent slope to depressions finished and in
future such @@Stresssituationen, how then in Hamburg, avoid.  He/it was itself
sure, that he/it would create that.

As he/it had said goodbye from the daughters and descended slowly the gait to
the @@Flugzeugeinstieg, there tightened he/it the back, put on a broad smile
and winks the miniature stewardess of Singapore @@Airlines cheering up to.  
He/it flew home.  In his world.  " I am on the way,  "thought he/it.  "I am
finally on the way.  Home."  Which this at home in the future would bring,
of it had he/it no expectation.  He/it wanted only back, to go finally the
right way.  With Lu, without them/it/her, with the children or also without
them/it/her.  How had his sister said @@Babs always:

" Strangely, you scatter children over the world, with which you will live
never together.  "  He/it longed for Lu and thought about the night, in which
he/it had betrayed her his most longing wish:

"your hand hold, if I close for always the eyes."

He/it knew only, he/it would hold Lus hand, at the departure.  He/it would
hold all the hands, which had accompanied him/it.  He/it would retire quietly.  
He/it could live without Lu, however he/it could not dismiss them/it/her
from his life, from his love, from his warmth.  He/it would die, with the
picture the astonished @@Mädchenaugen before the eyes, this astonished eyes in
their first @@Mövenpicknacht.  These eyes said then:

" I am finally at home.  "
And this at home wanted to receive he/it her, up to his death,.  Whether with

her living, or not.

Paul stowed his small, black @@Teutonenkoffer in the @@Ablagefach,
fastened seatbelt, the headphones accepted, inflated the @@Nackenrolle,
discontinued the @@Klassikkanal and closed the eyes.  Up to the landing in
Frankfurt he/it held Lus hand tenderly enclosed and chatted with his
children, @@Kyra, @@Sean and @@Alicia over flying dog, weeping tiger, men from
an other world, women of popes, @@Opernsängerinnen and @@Leading @@Ladies the
@@Ladies to be lain sometimes became.  He/it told them from friends, the
friends became, because they love him/it deeply and dearly, without consuming
him/it, from fathers and mothers, from @@Omas and @@Opas and grandmother and
grandfather.  He/it told by @@Goldhändlern, which will arise never, from
@@Waisenkindern and from koala @@Joe.  He/it invented the history of
Koko-Kroko, which @@Theaterkrokodil, which could sing so heavenly coloraturas
and the whole airplane laughed with them.  The stewardesses worried moving
about it, apparently sleeping, man with the @@kurzgeschorenen beard and the
splendid bald head.  You/They left him/it knowing in quiet.  In Frankfurt they
landed woke him/it first, as all other passengers of shelf had gone.  
You/They woke him/it with a glass of champagne and the @@Chefstewardess handed
him/it an orchid.  Them/it/her @@verneigten itself before him/it, like it only
true Asians can and smiled at him/it.

"With what have I earned that?"  if Paul asked amazes.  " you have in
@@Sydney @@geboarded,  "chirped the boss of the flying orchids.  "Our
colleagues of the Sydney-Leg have said us, we should leave you simply so, how
you sat there.  The airplane was not changed in @@Singapore, @@drum was that
no problem, not to send them/it/her by shelf."


" We have at us an old, Chinese proverb,  "said softly a very beautiful, young
@@Flugentenmädchen.  "If God smiles in the sleep, the time stands still and
becomes glad eternity.  You/They have given us all a little bit eternity.  
Please you smile."


Paul could not at all differently, he/it had to smile, a warm, radiating
@@Jungenlächeln.  And the stewardesses, inclusively their @@halbmännlichen
colleagues, pulled out the @@Canons and @@Kodaks and @@Fujis and it made
@@SPLASH.  Giggling @@verneigten itself the crew of @@SQ @@Flight 224 renews
before Paul and cleared an alley for him/it.  Paul grasped itself his
trunk from the depot, calmed down it, now well necessary, @@Wintermantel
around the shoulders and left, always still kindly smiling, the airplane.  
" If God smiles,  "thought he/it," if God smiles in the sleep.  "  Later he/it
learned, that @@Singapore had run @@Airlines an internal staff member -
@@wettbewerb:  "The best photo a happy passenger wins."


He/it saw on the clock and ascertained, that he/it had slept through
apparently full twenty-six hours of his life.  This did not be lucky the
@@diensthabende customs officials completely evidently had.  Paul saw itself
in the mirror deeply in the eyes, arrested Lu, @@Anne, @@Kyra, @@Alicia,
@@Sean, @@Babs, @@Mara and @@Conny, @@Iza and @@Vernon and @@Gretl and
@@Peter and @@Steven and his mother along with his father at the hand and
went, confidently, straight ahead.









CHAPTER TWENTYNINE

In Germany it was still very cold, not only outside. Whatever Paul tried, to finally see his son again, was a complete failure. Lu remained silent and fobid any contact. 

"Wir were not both open and also not empty,  "thought Paul.
          @@"Wir carried both masks.  We hid behind it like two
          children, which the wolf should find not."  @@Kommunikative
          misunderstandings continuously.  The strong Lu, behind it
          the weak.  The ingenious Paul, behind it the gate.  The
          lecherous Lu, behind it the exhaustion.  The tender Paul,
          behind it the bare power.  The outstanding singer, behind it
          the @@Stimmchen of the doubt.  The successful Paul,
          behind it the panic @@Lebensangst.  The perfect @@Liebespaar,
          behind it bright hate and lack of understanding for the other.  
          The eternally cheerful Lu, behind it deep frustration.  The
          eternally sullen Paul, behind it the longing after glee.


          In his book Paul wrote:  @@"Meine door stands far openly.  
          For each!  "


          However which Paul dreamt looked completely differently.  
          He/it had to wake up in last during fear in the morning and to
          remember of his desolate dreams.  Therefore he/it was well
          also again once on the way after London.


          "In shorten will land we in London," purred it from the
          @@Bordlautsprechern.


         The airplane put on softly on the runway in @@Heathrow.  The
          passengers pressed to the exits and as last left Paul with
          his eternally mocking smile in the @@Augenwinkeln, the
          airplane.  With cautious steps he/it of the passport control
          approached and infected itself a cigarette.  " Smokes forbade
           "stood at each column.  The customs official opened already to
          the reprimand the mouth, however had it remained dearer.  
          Paul blew him/it the @@Zigarettenrauch with a
          basic assumption in the face, which left no doubt openly.  
          The customs officer was clear, this man had the right, to
          smoke also in the holy airport of London.  Wordlessly the
          @@Grenzbeamte stamped the pass and had the smoker happened.  
          Before the airport Paul whistled, always still suntanned
          from his last @@Australienaufenthalt shortly through the teeth
          to a cab.  The man with the mocking smile in the eyes and the
          cigarette in the @@Mundwinkel, to look which of it dreamt like
          a mixture between @@Sean @@Conery and @@Richard @@Burton, this
          man, who was called once Paul liver and wanted to are called
          never again so, to say nothing of as this wanted to be, this
          man could be fallen on the passenger seat of the cab and
          murmured:


          "@@Hendon."


          Also in the cab @@Rauchverbot counted really, however the
          driver cranked simply his window down and departed.


          " It is cold,  "said Paul softly, although he/it love however
          wind and weathers so very and ignited itself a new cigarette.  
          He/it held the driver the package under the nose and it took,
          as on order, the offer of, although he/it had given up however
          after his second heart attack two years ago the smoke finally.  
          Paul extend the taxi driver kindly his lighter and the
          driver infected the cigarette.


          "Coldly," the strange man said, who had been once Paul,
          again and the driver cranked the window to.


          " Music?  "  tried the driver a conversation.


          "I hate music."


          " I also  ", escaped it the @@schweissgebadeten man at the tax.  
          From now at proceeded the excursion quietly.  The driver, with
          whom @@unenglischen drove names @@Bill like around his life.  
          First in @@Hendon he/it arrived dared again a question.  "
         Address?"


          " Bending them/it/her after the next light on the right from.  "


          "There I may not turn."


          " Bending them/it/her from.  "


          And @@Bill turned.


          "The next on the left," came it from the passenger seat. @@"Da
          in front, to the corner can leave they alit me.  "


          @@Bill drove at the curb and saw on his @@Taxameter and then
          on it him/it smiling at man.  "I @@hab today birthday.  I give
          you the excursion."  The man with the mocking smile in the
          @@Augenwinkeln said nothing at all.  He/it grasped only in the
          @@Brusttasche, pulled out a hundred @@Pfundschein and put
          him/it on the @@Armaturenbrett.  " He/it laughed
          window-dressings you closing-time,  "mockingly and jumped from
          the cab.  @@Bill saw him/it afterwards, how he/it to went with
          easily lifted shoulders on a @@Apartmenthaus, purposefully a
          @@Klingelknopf operated, any something in the intercom said
          and disappeared in the house.  @@Bill could, or
          did not want to drive loose.  He/it sat in his cab and waited
          for the return of this man.  He/it discovered, that his
          cigarettes had left lie this on the passenger seat and ignited
          itself like under pressure still one.  If his wife came
          behind it, there would be again endless @@Zetereien.  The hall
          light the @@Apartmenthauses, in which the foreigner had
          disappeared, concerned again.  One saw indistinct shadow
          behind the panes of the staircase and then came out the
          foreigner.  On his arm a happily cackling old lady hung, so
          against @@fünfundsiebzig, and was evidently completely from
          the cottage over the visit of the foreigner.  The both went to
          an old Mini @@Cooper, which was parked in the court.  The old
          lady opened the car, sat behind the tax and the man with the
          smile @@zwängte itself laboriously on the passenger seat.  
          Continuously chatting the old lady started the car and
          departed.  She/it took the @@Hofausfahrt, without seeing after
          on the right or on the left, with squeaking tire and @@brauste
          at Bill's cab past.  Almost it looked so, as would have the
          foreigner @@Bill mockingly @@zugewinkt, however that could
          have been also a deceit.


          As @@Bill came home was at this evening he/it drunk, had
          smoked even thick cigars and on the questioning eyes of his
          Mrs. moved he/it only his face to a mocking grin and said:  "I
          had missed birthday and you have him/it."  He/it had to laugh
          over this foolish, incomprehensible joke so cordially, that
          he/it got a @@Hustenanfall.  He/it coughed and laughed,
          grasped itself at the heart and was already dead, before he/it
          sank ultimately on the floor.


          With screeching brakes ostentatious house held the small Mini
          in a dead end before one half -.  The old lady jumped like a
          @@siebzehnjährige from the car and ran to the entrance.  
          She/it had evident a @@Haustürschlüssel and was already in the
          house, before the foreigner had peeled from the @@Miniwagen.  
          The front door stood openly and one heard the old lady in the
          interior loudly and cheerfully tell.  From the house an
          approximately two-year boy came suddenly stormed.  He/it
          remained how taken root before the foreigner stand, moved the
          @@Mundwinkel bashfully after below and sank the head. @@"Hi,
          son,  "said Paul, now without mocking smile, for it with more
          warmly, more softly voice.  And the small @@Knirps lifted the
          head and smiled Paul with that adjust mocking smiles in the
          @@Augenwinkeln, which used this so often as weapon.  Then
          he/it jumped at him/it highly, buried the small head in his
          @@Halsbeuge and said, with his strangely deep @@Kinderstimme:  
          @@"Mein @@Daddy there."


          Paul did not enter the house.  He/it waited with his son for
          the arm to @@Keith, @@Keith, lee and the old lady to him/it
          after outside came.


          @@"Wir are not pleased,  "said @@Keith with thin voice.
          @@"Darum goes it also not at all," murmured Paul.
          @@"Hauptsache I am pleased.  Where is Lu?  "


          @@"Sie does not want to see you," hemmed lee.


          She/it looked simply too foolishly, as she/it stood there in
          their @@Pullöverchen and the blond colored @@Barbydoll hair.  
          She/it colored their hair only for the one large, meaningless
          man beside her.  For @@Keith she/it yielded itself with
          @@zweiundfünfzig to it, to be on eternal @@Doris @@Day with
          twenty-five.  The old lady beside you looked with their
          @@fünfundsiebzig always still better than their daughter.  
          She/it looked altogether always better than their daughter.  
          However them did not want to discuss that simply with their
          analyst.


          " @@Sag her, we drive to @@Cherry @@Meadow.  All together.  "  
          Said Paul certainly.  "If he/it is not grand, is not it
          wonderful," was happy the old lady.  " Lu, we drive on the
          country.  @@Komm, quickly, we collide all on the country.  "


          "Punishment be must," said the foreign Paul quietly and
          opened the door the large @@Citroen, which before the house
          stood.


          " May ask I.  "


          @@Keith saw his wife questioning at, however them sat already
          in the @@Fond.  @@Keith sat behind the tax and the old lady
          took beside their daughter place.  Paul extend her his son
          in the @@Wageninnere.  He/it stood the front doors always
          still openly went now leisurely in the interior.  Long one
          heard nothing at all, then the shrill voice Lus:


          "Only if you hit me."


          The three adults in the car winced, as one heard from the
          house a loud swatter.  The small boy laughed only and said:


          " @@Mami happily.  "


          Lu came from the house overthrown, the cheek kept and sat
          beside their grandmother in the car.


          "@@Daddy, he/it has done it again.  He/it has me already
          again.  ...  "you become silented, as she/it noticed, that all
          in the car only their look avoided.  Paul, now again
          mockingly smiling, from the house and opposed itself beside
          @@Keith on the passenger seat. @@"Andiamo," said he/it and
          @@Keith departed, the closing in darkness.  The excursion
          proceeded wordlessly.  The small boy had fallen asleep in the
          arm of the grandmother and one heard only the hum of the heavy
          motor.  @@Keith @+dear car.  He/it dreamt by a @@Mercedes,
          however he/it was too stingy with his fifty years always
          still, to come true the dream.  After approximately a hour
          turned the @@Citroen of the @@Hauptstrasse and stumbled at a
          hedge along, the entrance of @@Cherry @@Meadow against.  The
          moon had opened and threw his @@Silberlicht shadowless on the
          meadows.  @@Keith turned carefully in the entrance to the
          @@Landsitz of the family.  There it lay - @@Cherry @@Meadow -
          the large house with his seven bedrooms and four baths was a
          @@Ausbund at tastelessness, however it stood on a twenty-five
          acre large, @@parkähnlichen property, with a large
          @@Swimmingpool and a @@Ententeich.  Really a paradise.  
          Remote, secluded and extremely quietly, inimitably English.  
          On @@Cherry @@Meadow could wanted to one make which one wanted
          and that the foreigner in this night.  The old lady was
          fluteed again the first in the house and:


         " I cook tea, for each and when always.  "


           She/it went in the kitchen and began singing and to boil
          whistling @@Teewasser.  That was everything, which she/it
          should do in this night.  Tea cook and be happy in the
          kitchen.  Paul carried his son in the @@Kinderzimmer on the
          second floor and put him/it softly in the crib.  As he/it bent
          to him/it down, to give him/it a last kiss, the small giggled
          cheerfully in the sleep.  He/it had not yet to smile always
          stopped.  Tenderly Paul cancelled him/it a curl from the
          face and deleted the light.  In the living room Lu and their
          parents sat themselves, always still silently, opposite.  
          Paul ignited itself a cigarette.  He/it knew, that Lus
          hated parents his @@Raucherei.  Lu had so much fear before
          them, that she/it had confessed them never, that also she/it
          smoked completely gladly.  "I begin with lee," said Paul
          softly.  "  Tells you as long as a history."  He/it took lee at
          the hand and led them/it/her completely quietly in the
          bathroom beside the @@Fernsehraum.  He/it moved her before the
          large mirror a chair before the sink right and began her,
          almost lovingly, to wash the hair.  His strengthen hands
          massaged the foam, slowly and for lee very @@genussvoll, in
          the scalp a.  Paul rinsed the foam, grasped in the
          @@Westentasche and got a package of @@Haarfarbe out.  He/it
          mixed the components together, put an old towel around lee
          shoulders and to direct began the color on their hair.  He/it
          worked wordlessly and concentrates.  Lee had all this
          been issued with closed eyes over itself.  Them/it/her
          @@wehrte itself not, she/it sat only quietly smiling there and
          had the miracle happened.  During the twenty minutes
          @@Einwirkzeit sat Paul then on the @@Badewannenkante and
          smoked quietly before itself there.  Then he/it of lee washed
          hair very thoroughly through, @+towel them/it/her with a fresh
          towel and grasped after the comb, which stood in the
          @@Zahnputzglas.  He/it combed lee hair smoothly, took a golden
          scissors in hand and to complete began his work.  Already
          after few minutes the long @@Barbie were shortened hair on
          chic length.  The foreigner worked precise and quickly.  
          He/it understood his craft evidently.  Lee held always still
          their eyes closed and hummed now cheerfully before itself
          there.  The foreigner full - @@dete the procedure with the
          @@Föhn.


          " If Paul accomplished,  "said and turned lee on their chair
          in the right light.  Lee opened, like a small girl before the
          Christmas tree, completely slowly the eyes.  Their hands
          drove, joyfully provokes at the mouth, to soften the climbing
          cry of the luck.  Which lee saw in the mirror, was a
          very beautiful, @@zweiundfünzigjährige Mrs. with velvety,
          almost @@ebenholzschwarz gleaming, very feminine shortly @+cut
          hair.  Disconcerted and happily astonishes stared lee at their
          new reflection.  The door to the bathroom opened and the old
          lady came in with tea.  She/it saw their daughter before the
          mirror sit and said only:


          "How lovely you are.  Still more tea?"


          Then she/it went again in their kitchen and @@trällerte hits
          from the @@Zwanzigern.  " Thanks  "whispered lee.  "May go swim
          I?"


          " As long as you want.  "


          Lee leaped up, drove freely from their trouserss and the
          @@Pullöverchen, took off @@BH and @@Slip and went crosswise
          through the living room over the terrace to the @@Pool.  
          @@Keith sat with open mouth and a cup tea in the hand on the
          outdated sofa and goggled hollowly behind his new Mrs. here.  
          The saliva ran him/it from the @@Mundwinkel and in his eyes
          stood tears.  "you would have watched well gladly," murmured
          Paul. @@"Das may you for it now.  "  "Still tea?"  fluteed it
          from the @@Küchentür.


          " Perhaps later,  "Paul answered, which smiled now again.  "
         Lu, it is time."


          Lu nodded dumb and to take off began itself slowly.  She/it
          did it, like a genuine @@Stripperin and even in this,
          extraordinarily inscrutable situation created them/it/her it
          still, to observe itself thereby even in the mirror.  As
          Paul saw this, he/it shook softly his head and @@dacht only:


          " It be must.  I must do it.  "  To @@Keith he/it said:  "
         Want to help you me, man of the honor?"  @@Keith nodded
          powerless.  Paul pressed him/it an army -
          @@Haarschneidemaschine in the hand and said:


          " @@Rasier them/it/her - everywhere - head - shoulder - shame.  
          Everything.  Reading you time.  @@Geniess it.  I make The
          @@Messerarbeit itself.  "


          @@Keith began, without hesitating, with his @@Trauerarbeit.  
          He/it shaved @@genussvoll and under easy groan of his daughter
          the @@Haupthaar, drove, already much more impudently, once
          shortly under the left and right armpit and swept then like a
          lawnmower over their dark, silky @@Venushügel.  He/it gave
          itself of this work fully detached there, without thinking
          about it, what he/it did.  The foreigner sat in the interim at
          the old lady in the kitchen and left himself" @@A @@pretty
          @@Girl @@is @@like @@a @@Melody  "from their @@vorsingen.

          "Finished," screamed it radiating from the living room.  
          Paul got up slowly, pressed the old lady a kiss on the
          forehead, had warm water run in a glass and rubbed itself the
          hands with soap.  Then he/it went back with the glass and a
          razor in the living room, in which Lu sat fully @@verzückt
          in the @@Lotussitz and drove itself with both hands over the
          almost bald skull and the harsh shame:


          " Lecherous  "purred them/it/her," the most lecherous feeling
          of the world.  "  Paul sprayed their warm water on head and
          shame and drove softly with his @@seifigen hands over their
          head and their shame.  She/it glowed.  She/it overflowed
          almost, as he/it touched them/it/her.  Their nipples stood
          stiffly like tin soldiers and their @@Schamlippen pulseed like
          after a marathon.  She/it was provoked so, that each smallest
          touch left them/it/her @@erschauern.  @@Keith sat on his sofa,
          the hands in the lap cramps, the saliva ran him/it always
          still in currents.  @@Keith watched, it could not grasp and
          passed in @@Feuerphantasien.  Paul clean-shaven lee
          completely.  As he/it was finished, he/it said her in the
          middle of the eyes:


          "The @@Nazis wrote over a CONCENTRATION CAMP - Each the being
          - the French @@Resistance shaved their women bald, if they
          gave away themselves the enemy.  Your father did it, because
          he/it cheated feels itself by you and I complete the stigma,
          because you have betrayed me for him/it."


          " I need love.  Now.  @@Füll me the stomach.  Now, before I
          explode,  "panted lee, almost a peak closely.


          From the @@Pool one heard quiet splashing.  Lee turned there
          powerfully and absent-mindedly their rounds.  "Still tea?"  
          @@wisperte the old lady discreetly.


          " Yes, for @@Keith, he/it needs him/it urgently,  "said Paul.  
          The old lady @+rich @@Keith a steaming cup and said:


          "Now be not a good boy and @@trink too hasty.  Enjoy."  
          Giggling she/it went back in their kitchen.  It was the
          evening of their triumph.  She/it could do and leave which
          she/it wanted.  She/it reprimanded no @@gängelte them/it/her,
          none, none gave her the feeling, useless and to be worthless.  
          She/it felt young and greatly.  Today was their night.  Once
          more she/it could awaken.  She/it felt greatly and
          @@lebensfroh and wanted to become from immediately at least
          hundred years old.


          In the living room @@Keith sat trembling and lapped his tea.  
          He/it could not take his look from the daughter, who sat
          always still in the @@Lotussitz on the carpet and in itself
          around @@fingerte.  " It is your night, @@Keith,  "said Paul
          with a dangerous clay in the voice.  There nothing was soft
          more.  There there was no mockery.  His eyes were pale and
          empty.  Only who exactly @@hinsah could see, that they were
          dead.  Dead before mourning.


          "you may it, @@Keith.  You have my permission.  @@Nimm
          them/it/her you."  if Paul said and saw from the
          @@Augenwinkeln, how lee calmed down on the floor and spread
          far apart.  @@Keith drove itself once with the tongue over the
          dry lips and opened his belt.  How absent-mindedly he/it
          raised the zipper of his trousers and grining, like a
          @@Sonderschüler, pulled he/it his @@Penis from the underpants.  
          He/it plunged without early warning on his daughter, who
          him/it with one, almost awfully seeming Lustschrei received.


          Paul ascended slowly the staircase to the second floor and
          went in the room of his son.  Carefully he/it lifted the small
          from his @@Bettchen.  The child awakened still and rubbed
          itself @@quengelig the eyes.  However as he/it his father
          recognized, he/it smiled at him/it @@spitzbübisch and bit
          him/it softly in the nose.  Paul carried his son after below
          to the old lady in the kitchen.  " It is now time for us,
           "said he/it softly.


          "Still a cup with on the way?"  asked cheerfully the old lady.  
          " No, it is late, we must loose.  I thank you, for your
          trust.  "  "you have to thank me nothing.  I thank you.  You
          have confirmed my belief in the love.  For it it has
          been profitable, to live."


          " I have confirmed your belief?  Whereby?  "  asked Paul
          disconcerted.  "you do not give on.  You does not relax.  
          Never.  You go to to the boundaries and overstep them/it/her.  
          That is love."


          Paul and the old lady examined long quietly.  Completely
          slowly a smile crept in their eyes.  No mocking, but a very
          warm.  The both @@Seelenverwandten examined very long and
          smiled.  Then they nodded to themselves and Paul went
          @@grusslos with his son from the house.  He/it wandered to the
          @@Pool up, in which lee detached always still fully their
          rounds turned.  She/it saw Paul with his son at the entrance
          stand and waved them cheerfully.  The small waved back and put
          the head at the shoulder of his father.  Then the large and
          the small man went jointly to the old @@Citroen.  Paul
          strapped the child on the passenger seat and sat behind the
          tax.  He/it started the motor and inserted the gait.  The
          gravel splashed as he/it the ramp down drove.  The moon had
          parked itself behind a cloud and so danced the mosquitoes only
          in the limelight.  The night was tepid and earlier @@Morgentau
          waved through the opened @@Wagenfenster.  At the entrance
          Paul stopped once more shortly.  It was still, only them
          sound, Lustverzückten cries from the house trimmed the dark
          night.  There Lu got now finally that from their father,
          which she/it had confused their life long with love:  @@Sex.


          " One day we must converse earnestly over the love,  "said
          Paul to his son.  "The small spelled love" sleep through.  
          " Love @@Daddy, dear @@Mami, dear @@Gnom.  "  Paul had to
          laugh.  His son could not express his name right and called
          itself therefore @@Gnom.  If he/it only @@wüsste, which a
          @@Gnom is.  Completely this @@Sonnenkind does not determine.  
          "If you know what we make now?"  asked Paul his almost
          sleeping son.  " Home,  "murmured @@Gnom and slid with his head
          in the arm of his father.  "Home" repeated Paul.  " Exactly,
          that make we.  We drive home.  "  In @@Heathrow Paul put down
          the car in the @@Langzeitgarage.  With thick, red felt-tip pen
          wrote he/it:  "I am stick a @@Mercedes" on the @@Kühlerhaube
          and left the key simply.  He/it took his son on the shoulders,
          put on himself the small bag, which had become his only
          necessary luggage and went to the passport control.  The
          customs officer saw the foreigner with the small, radiating
          boy @@huckepack and figured out a reprimand.  He/it had had a
          sleepless night and with his fate @@gehadert.  He/it as
          @@Oberzöllneranwärter was not man enough, to forbid a
          @@schnöden passenger the smoke.  He/it had rung therefore even
          his mother in @@Manchester from the bed.  Them could give
          him/it however also no plausible answer.  And there came again
          he/it now already.  With child.


         That would become difficult, for men with small children had to
          be treated preferred.  Paul extend him/it two passes, which
          considered itself the official dumb.  He/it compared the
          names, which @@Passbilder, examined, as he/it mean, extremely
          severely and penetrating Paul of above to below and
          gave back the passes wordlessly.


          " By the way, thank you for their understanding yesterday,
           "Paul said.  "I was a little bit nervous perhaps.  Here,
          @@schenk I you."  And he/it extend the amazed customs official
          a half bar @@Silkcut.


         " I am namely non-smokers and smoke only in England,  "grunted
          Paul with larcenous pleasure and had disappeared already
          around the corner.


          "I am assume also non-smokers and we are allowed to do
          nothing," whispered the official.  However Paul had
          disappeared long since in the @@Getümmel on never meetings.  
          " you know however, that here @@Rauchverbot rules, @@Patrick!  "  
          if the voice of his superior grumbled. @@"Das poison is
          confiscated."


          Like a @@Tarantel the hand rushed the Still - @@Oberzöllners
          to the half carton of cigarettes and clamped them/it/her under
          the arm.


          " That will had brought a @@Dienstvermerk, @@Patrick,  "growled
          the @@Ex - lance corporal, who it in the location Bielefeld
          only for a disgraceful discharge from the army because of
          persistent, @@therapieresistenter nonsense.  With the springy
          step the professional @@Totmacher hurried he/it of it.  "I
          hate my mother" thought @@Patrick and waved itself the next
          passenger at the switch, while in the @@Langzeitparkhaus the
          fastest thieves of London detached a @@Citroen, which
          would have been gladly a @@Mercedes, all four tires.  
          You/They did not want the car themselves.  It was them too
          worthless.


          As Paul awakened @@schweissgebadet from this dream, he/it
          ran in the bath, had icy water run over face, napes and hands
          and roared again and again:  " you are sick, fully sick,
          Paul.  Go to the doctor.  "


          He/it dried itself face and hands and as he/it saw in the
          mirror, he/it could not grasp the sight.  He/it saw a
          cheerfully laughing Paul.  The eyes sprayed and in the
          @@Augenwinkeln sat these larcenous @@Schalk.  He/it laughed
          for the first time since months.  And he/it liked this laugh.  
          Since this night was for him/it yes now to end, he/it sat at
          the computer and wrote down the dream.  Word for word under
          the title:  'Die Abrechnung.'


         As Paul get met at the next tomorrow his landlady at the
          roll, these mean:  "you were yes last night very cheerful."


          " Does me @@leid, Mrs. @@Wiedemann.  Have disturbed I very?  "  
          apologized Paul.  "No, no.  Not disturb altogether.  
          You/They know however:  It has is laughed beautifully if at us
          in the house."






















CHAPTER THIRTY

Paul was always proudly of his large trust.  If he/it trusted once somebody,
could throw this him/it in the dirt like he/it wanted.  So it came also to the
unfair crash in @@Meiningen.  Paul trusted the intendant very.  This had
been once in Bielefeld his @@Regieassitent.  He/it had fled over Yugoslavia
from the GDR and @@landetet in Bielefeld.  Little later he/it became
@@Chefdramaturg in Kassel and already very soon on it intendant in
@@Meiningen, this original in the @@Theaterlandschaft.  In a city with
@@fünfundzwanzigtausend inhabitants stands there a wonderful, old theatre with
@@siebenhundertfünfzig places.  Already in the first year the @@Intendanz of
@@Uli @@Burkhard, produced Paul there  "dangerouss @@Liebschaften" and became
with this production to the popular permanent guest.  In @@Meiningen he/it
felt always well.  That was a theatre and an atmosphere after his taste.  
He/it produces very much in @@Meiningen and ultimately could he/it even his
own @@Musical  "miller office" in @@Meiningen @@uraufführen.  However this
production was also the end.  @@Uli had held Paul again and again a bait
before the nose, to move him/it to it, to remain furthermore in @@Meiningen.  
First he/it offered him/it the place the @@Musiktheater of director, however
already soon became clear, that this place became not at all free.  
After that it should become then the play director.  April, April.  To the
conclusion @@einigten itself the both on the function the @@Chefdramaturgen
with @@Regieverpflichtung.  Paul was overjoyed.  This position would get
him/it finally from the street and bring probably also professionally very
much further.  April, April.  As the contract should be signed, @@Uli
drew back him/it simply and said:  " you become deputy play - and
@@Musiktheater director.  "



Paul decayed at that day in large silence.  His trust in a person was hurt
still never as deeply as at that day.  Obvious was the mood after this
conversation on the @@Nullpunkt and the tests to miller office proceeded
extremely tenaciously.  There was by the pound problems and Paul understood
simply no more, why he/it should spare in @@Meiningen still any somebody.  
He/it uncovered all errors, which he/it could find only and put them/it/her
vociferously at the pillory.  However as at the first @@Hauptrobe fully other
costumes emerged, as which discussed, tore Paul finally the @@Geduldsfaden.  
He/it rose like a rocket and on the @@lapidare answer the @@Kostümbildners:  "
I @@habs me @@halt differently considers," was the scandal perfect.  At the
next morning Paul received order to stay away, the Mr. intendant stood
@@breitbeinig in the @@Pfortentür and waited to this  "enemy" finally by the
court had driven.  A large friendship was to end and Paul carried his trust
to graves.  The only, positive mainspring of his life, his trust, had given up
the spirit.  Since that day was Paul only still suspicious, also facing his
Mrs..  He/it could believe in nothing more, also no more in the love of his
Mrs. to him/it.  He/it grumbled, drivelled, decayed for the first time in a
depression, @@zerpflückte with enjoyment each attempt of trust and became an
acid, @@unfroher, grumbling person.  However that did not see he/it at itself,
but at Lu.  For him/it she/it began since that day to grumble and to doubt
and to incite and to destroy.  Paul did not recognize, that he/it saw only
in his own mirror.

If there trust - is still there, it holds only a long hibernation.







Kinship - in the truest sense of the word.  Kinship in the spirit, kinship in
dreams, kinship in love, taste, affection and zest for life.  If there
recognize that feels well if one discovers, that here a good development
proceeds forward.  Final it to be, which one would like to be.  If one accept
who is real.  Patience learn and have them/it/her then in all situations.  
 Patience also with itself personally.  During use and do not waste.  During
take for the important.
During is money.  No.  During is quiet.  And kinship demanded Paul now also
with itself personally.  Now he/it knew suddenly, where it  "weeping belonged
tigers" .  To his internal relative. On one of his many visits to Hamburg, Paul showed Vernon the resuklts of his latest trip to Australia. Vernon took the lyrics to the piano and started, spontaniously, to write a melody for it. For hours they sat at the piano and rehursed the new song. One evening, friends had come over for one of Paul's famous Indian dinners, Paul was secure enough to sing the song for the first time in front of an audience.

The crying Tiger

There was a tiger, young and strong,
full of excitement 
may come what come. 
He was a dreamer of some kind, 
he had illusions on his mind, 
he saw himself as king of clouds, 
he was a bear fishing trouts, 
he had his hope 
flying high in the wind, 
he was the rope 
tying down seagulls wings, 
he was the knight who fought the night, 
he was the kite which flew out of sight, 
he was a baby and a man, 
he was a killer with no frame 
to name his fear. 
He  was in love with spicy food, 
he wished to be wise like a Drood, 
and know about the stars and God, 
be wise about the futures fraud, 
he screamed and yelled 
was full of joy, he thought the world 
was his own toy to play and fool around 
as he pleased. 
There was a tiger in that tiger 
who whispered nasty little words
of anger. 
There was a lion within him, 
who knocked him out 
with his fearless grin. 
The tiger sat in one 
stary night he just sat down 
and cried. 
The birds, they laughed when  they saw this, 
from now on they would 
give the crying tiger a miss. 
He sat and cried, but in spite of fear 
he discovered that he was as powerful to be always here. 

Paul even sang 'Love is', while Vernon improvised on the piano. At the end, Vernon got up and gave Paul a big hug. No one aplauded, but everyone there had understood. 








CHAPTER THIRTYONE

" We sexually fit so perfectly" Lu had moaned so often. Like the glove fits a hand. Like a key into the key hole. During his relationship with Lu, Paul had finally found his sexual power. The two made love to each other with an absolutely unbelievable intensity. Paul was sure, that one only was allowed to experience something like that once in a life time. But while making love to each other, they must have forgotten to nurse their relationship. In spite of taking care of that he hung big mirrors in their sleeping room, so that Lu was able to see herself making love - to whom - herself? She loved her own mirror image, but never his. 

It was deadly quiet in Ebermergen. Lonely and empty. The huge flat killed Paul. And still he managed to be so alone, no, he insisted. Over and over he hammered into his computer: 
"First love yourself - perhaps then you will  be able to love."

That was the rule for both Paul an Lu now. They both had to learn to first accept themselves and put this acceptance into their love. Let love live. get to know love at the right time. To love with the head and the heart in balanced harmony. Warmth. But at this stage of their lives Paul did not find a glimpse of warmth in his wife. It seemed liked that she had banned all her possibilities of creating this warmth behind the thick walls of the refrigerator she had turned into. 

Once a week Paul stormed to Hamburg, to Vernon. He wanted to see his son. But Lu would not let him. Week after week. In Hamburg there also was Mascha. Waiting. What did she want? Once again use him, as a test person for one of her acting parts. Like in the old days - in Nuremberg? She was preparing for two new parts, which she was meant to play during the summer season down in Bavaria.  When Paul read through the two plays, he knew, that she was about to use him again, in order to get a better grip on the parts. But this time he did not care about it. He knew the game. And so he broke his  vow, to never ever write a letter to a woman again. But the expression in the eyes of the seagull from Nuremberg, when he said good bye to her a few days ago  in Hamburg, this expression forced him to yet once again sit down and write a letter.

Ebermergen - 15-3-96

Dear,
now @@tu @@ichs however and force you in the yoke - says one at us @@daheim.

The expression in your eyes has frightened me - there was suddenly doubts.  
That has hurt very.  I insure you - I have plastered you never with dirt - I
have used you never for my purposes - I have not talked badly from you -
nothing over you, or us said, tells, @@fabuliert, conceived to say nothing of
lain.  Which persons should may call - one this @@Gesocks altogether so -
which therefore these vultures on God have to look for wonderful field,
remains mysterious.  Here is lain from all being available @@Körperöffnungen,
humbleed, with @@Jauche thrown, slanders, slanders, betray and sells.  One day
you will read my book - it is the pure truth.  Therein nothing is invented,
the language is sincere and sometimes powerful.  The imaginations and
fairy tale are experienced in part, in part @@gealpträumt, but true.  The
feels are large, as large as them/it/her just only in my life can be.

You want to know, what between us happened?  On Saturday already?  I had fear
before me.  I did not know, how it would be issued me.  And as I then bare
beside you lay - there became me so much clear.
My - use we now once the @@Lieblingssprache of the vassals around my woman
around - my tail reacted - that is the drama of the men.  My heart did not
react however.  And I have admitted my life long still never heartless
excitement.  I do not want it also in future.  Therefore I lay so motionless,
bare beside you and have, for the first time in my life, my longing not yield.  
 I know, I have insulted you as Mrs. with it.  I have comprehended in that
night, what my stake in the meat, which Lu has done me.  She/it displaces me
in fear and fears, before the loss of my large trust.  I have survived
up to now my life without scorn.  I have loved and hated sometimes for short
time also.  However never very long, a couple of hours perhaps, then conquered
my trust, my affection and my belief in persons.  So I had to scorn never.  
 You say yes personally - before one have you fear - before my scorn.  If I is
quieted, will scorn you never, for for it has said my heart once too loudly
yes to you.  You be correct me sadly, if you deprive me your trust.  However I
understand it, that it must be now so and you want to protect yourself.

Why I love this Mrs. so very?  I want to say you frankly, why:  She/it has
brought in me a string to the blade, which I spill believed.  My life was
for years built on discipline, responsibility, protection and maintenance.  I
was could lean the rocks on the each.  I carried, like atlas, each load and
became dead tired thereby.  The rock was already porous long, however the
blind routine did not see that, did not want to see it.  Then this Mrs. came,
so male greatly.  As self-sufficient as I it once was.  So by the life and the
fate pounded.  So hard at the edge of the self-destruction and however so
deeply in the belief in a possible luck rooted.  Once I saw in their eyes this
longing.  Once she/it left me completely in itself in.  Once could wander I
amaze through their soul and experienced marvelling my age @@Ego.  Once and I
was finally at home.  Unshakable was my love.  If she/it threatens by my fear
to lose.  I had since the first day fear, that this miracle could not count
me.  Perhaps she/it has me too much @@vorgespielt.  Perhaps she/it said also
always the truth.  Do you know, to solve when she/it began itself by me?  At
the day of the birth of @@Sean.  We came from the hospital already after four
hours home.  In the evening we calmed down, jointly with our new-born son, in
who bed.  He/it lay between us and however very closely with her.  He/it could
not do not calm down in their arm and fell asleep.  There I took him/it to me,
put him/it at my stomach and protecting the arm around him/it and he/it slept
so, the whole night.  Since then she/it is me from deepest soul evil.  I have
not recognized the signs only.  For me it was no selfish @@Besitzergreifen of
my son, for me was it only the reference, that we can protect jointly this
child.  That I can be as man also mother, without losing my pride.  I believe,
she/it stuck then to an unexpected envy.  I was to be seen too stupidly it.  
Why I love she/it so?  Because she/it could be the rock.  Because I lean could
without mistrust.  Because I could be so feminine, as I wanted.  Because
she/it made me to the potent lover and left increase so my self-confidence
finally.  Why I will love them/it/her always?  Because she/it has made a whole
person from me.  The man it she/it has hit, that was not I.  That was a
desperate, powerless giant.  She/it has killed me in that night with
@@Eiseskälte and words.  She/it has provoked calculated, to be able to go.  
She/it has buried me alive, suffocated me with their anger, betrayed me with
their hate, poisoned my trust with their lie of love.  Yes, I have hit
them/it/her and I would do it again, @@liesse I a such situation once more in
my life.  My work aims at it, to admit this never again.  Rather I depart
previously.  Rather I travel in me personally, before I spit God once more
before the feet.

Let us do not call you once @@Meroe - the lover @@Pentesileas - them her
however could help.  Friends are first then friends, if they joined remain
amicably, although they know both pages and believe also.  You ask, whether I
know, why Lu has left me?  Yes, I know it.  Not, because I have given her an
only @@Ohrfeige, since them/it/her the only person, to whom I could say ever
sincerely  "mother" , because she/it has insulted the @@Gretl in shameless way.  
Not because I have admitted since the beginning of our relationship their
aggressions and their blows.  How proud was Lu however, as them/it/her of
their mother reported:  " I have hit my producer.  "  There we were still not
at all together.  Not because I them/it/her in the night from 6. on it 7.  
February secondly and last time, on their own wish there, have hit.  The panic
fear before the father, before the broken promise that them/it/her him/it had
given, this fear was their more important than @@Sean and I.  She/it could be
hit, without protecting resistance, without screaming itself, without leaveing
around help, without the room and fleeing to the friends in the
adjoining room.  Only in this way she/it could call finally a convincing
reason, to go.  The trick with the alcoholic was failed, the trick with the
schizophrenia had not functioned, not once their denial, facing the Australian
daughters, brought me to it, to leave them/it/her.  Not once their raw cold,
as she/it sat in the wardrobe and I had collapsed, not once their sentence:  
Hopefully he/it dies!  if she/it brought me to it, to cut from my life.  
Nothing from that which Lu did me and does, my love of you has conquered
ever.  I will love Lu always.  Madly, but wonderfully true.  You to pardon,
does not fall me with difficulty.  Why?  Dear!  She/it wanted away, since long
time.  As no argument gave her an occasion, to go, she/it grasped to the most
terrible means.  Power.  Against me, before the children, against itself
personally, before the children.  Raw, bare power.  No, it had to be power.  
I knew that and made me drunk, to not have to the pain of this knowledge at
consciousness @@ertragen.  I hit them/it/her, to free them/it/her from their
faint and helplessness.  I hit them/it/her and knew very well, that I murdered
myself with it personally.  My son was never sick in my present.  If Lu
arrived, then boarded it him/it the breath.  Their aggression, their anger on
this inferior life, which had to lead them/it/her with us, their faint, the
son not to @@ertragen, the responsibility not take over to be able to do and
to want, them has boarded him/it the breath.  At me he/it was always cheerful
and quiet.  He/it was yes also the most time at me.  If she/it maintains
today, she/it would have been from the beginning exclusive for the upbringing
and care of the son and the entire household responsible, then would have to
examine them/it/her first once their calendar, @@Gretl and me of the lie
convey and terminate their cleaner.  If she/it maintains today, I has been
envious on their professional successes, then would have to add up them/it/her
first once, which she/it has made for really in the last three years
professionally.  Their professional successes @@fussen on my efforts, their
career actually and to bring durably in gait and to make possible her a second
@@Standbein in the choreography.  Lu has in the last three years @@Two @@by
@@Two, @@Nonnsense, @@King @@and @@I, @@Zombie ball and @@Falsettos and @@Hair
as performer with me made.  She/it has Jesus Christian, west @@Side @@Story,
@@Liebesperlen, @@Nonnsense, @@Hair, @@Zombie ball for me choreographs.  What
made she/it alone?  She/it was @@Zweitbesetzung @@Maria @@Magdalena in
Bielefeld, jumped in for ten ideas into @@Nonnsense two and exhausted itself
totally with @@Beehive.  The @@wars then.  My debt?  No.  She/it got no
engagements, because she/it was too greedy and that hears one at the
@@Vorsingen.  @@Falsettos was made exclusively for them/it/her.  It should
become their fabulous debut in Hamburg.  That she/it has decided against me,
as maker, @@Hauptdarstellerin, choreographer, mother of our son, stepmother of
my daughters and wife, is their helplessness, exhaustion and arrogance
attributable.  She/it should learn first once, to spell the word career and to
comprehend, that one will make only with addiction, greed, @@Geilheit and
@@egomaner vanity no career.  Heart needs one to it - an idea, which
is missing unfortunately in the vocabulary these @@Pentisilea.  Achilles had
decayed the amazon so like I.  However Achilles is dead:  "you tears him/it
the teeth in the chest" reports @@Meroe.  I am and was never Achilles.  I am
his brother, it lives and will avenge him/it.  My heels are @@stahlgeschient
and my @@Ahornblatt is from platinum.  No @@Hagen, feminine or male, will
emasculate me per.  Why she/it has left me?  Because she/it had to discover,
that I am not the father, who returns her the lost love of the childhood.  
Because she/it had to discover, that I am not the man, the day a day from the
rock in the surf is.  Because she/it recognized in me the sum of their own
errors.  Because she/it idolizeed their reflection and saw thereby me no more.  
She/it drove sexual intercourse with itself personally.  Them/it/her @@vögelte
their reflection.  Because she/it is as Mrs. the better man.  Because she/it
had a grandfather, who called himself @@Don @@Kenito @@del @@Minstral,
although he/it was called @@Keneth @@Bennett.  Because she/it had to ascertain
itself Brazilian @@Zigeunerblut @@andichtete and with me, that she/it is only
a @@streunende cat, which has to do with Brazil and already not at all gipsys
something.  Because she/it could not evade with all the injuries of their
childhood and youth.  Because I admired their deafness, because I protected
their artificial knee, because I breathed for them/it/her if she/it had
asthma, because I her, despite @@Gebährmuttermundkrebs a son gave, because I
had they ridden on me, to spare their limited Lungenkapazität, because I
believed their attempted suicide, because I did not pardon her the
@@Kokainmissbrauch, because I scorned their @@Haschkekse, because I do not
dance, because I loved to have her the @@One @@night status, which remained
then five years and maintains by that them/it/her, him/it never, although
their notes before mad @@Liebeserklärungen at him/it @@überquellen, because I
these @@Proleten, which me  the eggs cut off and wants to smash Devour them,
which calls me @@kleinschwanzig and @@drittklassig, because I could purchase
her this man, who is as stupid as their father, never.  Because I will pardon
her the Bosnian @@Warzenschwein @@Dejan (@@owitsch) @@Kotzki never, which has
set them/it/her me like a @@Filzlaus in the house and it here in over
@@einhundertzwanzig @@Tele @@Info service calls of the brand  "@@Hotline"
  "@@Schwulen - expressly"  "@@Blas with me" his @@Ejakulat over my apartment
has sprayed and left behind thereby a telephone bill of
@@eintausendvierhundert marks.  This piece of dirt lives together today with
Lu.  I had to leave the apartment here @@dampfreinigen, after I discovered
his Telefonsex-leidenschaft.  Why she/it has left me?  Because she/it
surrounds itself rather with persons, who say always only yes and see never
behind their facade.  Why she/it has left me?  Because I love them/it/her.  
That can not this decal of the devil @@ertragen.  One must hate the devil, or
one must submit him/it.  However him/it actually love, which @@erträgt of the
devils not.  I have hurt her?  When?  As I hit she/it?  No, there she/it had
an orgasm before luck.  Probably the first genuine orgasm in the last three
years.

Lu is a magnificent person, a wonderful Mrs., if she/it admits itself
personally.  If she/it lives however, so how now, their reflection, she/it
becomes to the @@Hetäre, to which @@Medusa, to which @@Spinnenfrau, to the
hyena of their vanity and @@Borniertheit.  Lus lifés work is it, to be evil.  
 She/it says personally so often:  " I am evil.  I am a bad person.  I feel
well, if I am completely mean.  "  She/it finds it merrily, if she/it shouts at
@@Sean at the meal:  "@@Eat @@or I'll @@send @@you @@to @@the @@devil."  
 She/it finds it wonderfully if she/it says:  " The devil?  My best friend.  
 " you finds it grandly, if she/it shouts at complete strangers before the
@@Dammtor station:  " you are a dirty pig.  I am pleased already on it, to
meet them/it/her in the hell.  "  She/it expects for their aggression applause.  
 She/it gets him/it unfortunately too rarely.  Lu is today a poor, sick
nature.  Through me?  No, exclusively through themselves personally and the
persons, whom she/it trusts more than me.  @@Kaputtgeschlagen of the
@@Lieblosigkeit of their father.  If you/They stamp out and disgraced from the
men, with whom has engaged before me.  I do not belong to these men.  She/it
has selected me, deputy for all the torment and pain, which have added her
others, to atone.  And with my large, feminine potential am I naturally an
unusually willing sacrifice.

Dear @@Mascha - or @@Meroe - you say, if two persons itself so @@zerfleischen,
should go them/it/her separate ways.  No - if two persons love themselves so,
they should pardon each other, their wounds jointly cure and drive in a new,
better way.  As long as Lu the life as Greek tragedy @@nachspielt,
as long as she/it celebrates their current condition like a @@Hauptrolle,
as long as they does not impose their mirrors and finds to itself personally,
as long as will be them/it/her no person.  @@Tom teeth said once in answer to
the question:  "What do you hold from Lu?"  only:  " @@Empty @@Shell".  
Unfortunately very wise.  Why she/it has left me?  Because she/it celebrated
with me at that 2.2. a roaring @@Liebesnacht in the @@Interconti in Hamburg.  
The best night of our life and because she/it maintains today in their
@@Klageschrift, I would have hit them/it/her in this night.  In this night was
only love, wonderful, outstanding love.  However personally then she/it pulled
me on the floor, before the mirror, to love again only itself personally.  I
have not taken it unfortunately in my @@Liebesrausch seriously.  Why she/it
has left me?  Does she/it know personally that for really?


I surround myself very gladly with persons.  Therefore with you.  I have
faeces lain gladly on the left.  I have held long quietly, too long perhaps
also already in my marriages.  Is a man, who can be hit from his
@@achtundzwanzigjährigen Mrs., without himself against it to @@wehren, which
the aggression and anger of this Mrs. to long silently @@erträgt, is that a
worse or unmanly man?  That this man is too understandable then sometime once
in the heat of the moment and under @@Alkoholwirkung, in entire despair and
panic faint back hits, that only.  And @@lass you a said his - this Mrs., who
await could to be it once not my wife, has herself at that 7.  February not
@@gewehrt, she/it has not protected itself once, she/it has not called around
help and do not leave also the room.  She/it sat on the mattress, in this
@@blutroten rooms and demanded more and more bodily power of me.  She/it
carries for the incidents the responsibility, so like I mean responsibility
for it carry and work on the solution this @@grauenhaften of conflict with
professional help.  Why the hit refuses this help, is me clear.  She/it has
well panic fear before the from it resulting results.  That insanity are a
@@Familienproblem @@väterlicherseits, which knows them/it/her only too well.  
I personally would have there also fear, around my actual state of mind.  For
me this foreign Mrs. has fallen ill with difficulty at the soul.  However not
through me, I am there only the representative for somebody completely others.  
She/it punishes me deputy for all men in their life, which have hurt
them/it/her so awfully - up to the @@Lieblosigkeit of their father.  This
foreigner is a small, lecherous @@Theaternutte, whose only goal is the career.  
She/it has stripped me in the beginning our relationship once their true
kernel - this is still wonderful also today, unfortunately only deeply spills
under the debris of their hate.  A person, who can not pardon, will be never
happy.  However their tortured brain leaves not the true @@Menschenfrau to.  
That is zeitgeist and sometime also the downfall of this beautiful world.  
Egoism, @@Hoffart, greed, @@Geilheit, avarice in the financial sense like in
the emotional, vanity and continual lies may be the key indicators of
performers.  You/They have to look for however in my life nothing.

And to the conclusion - despite this unspeakable feeling of the scorn, will be
my wife always in my heart.  My love of you is outlast unchanged and becomes
the years.  My trust in the Mrs., who I knew once and, @@ungebrochen could
love is.  Completely alike, which this chaotic idol Lu-Jane, which you
look for to defend so earnestly, from your femaleness out,, also drives and
sets in movement, I pardon her, because I love them/it/her actually.  And true
love - dear @@Hedda, dear gull, them wish I each from whole heart - for only
through she/it becomes one a whole person.  The way is endlessly extensive and
troublesome, with stones plastered and shifts from @@Dornenhecken.  However
he/it is profitable, for it is the way to you personally.

For your future all the ++Gute.  That our ways separate must here is
inalienable well for you.  Who once my trust has lost, it recovers never.  
Who it has won and not abuse, finds in me a lifelong friend.  I trust you.  
That have dreamers like I now once so in itself.  Now you have however my
phone numbers.  I give @@Rauchlebenszeichen, so that you do not have to worry
about me.
@@Gehab you well
Your Paul.

P.S.  Give me her my farewell letter.  He/it will make them/it/her happily,













the poor.













CHAPTER THIRTYTWO

No more left to hate. No more destroying your opponent, yourself. Live in balance.  Free from negative feelings. Freedom to give and to take.  Tare fences, blow up walls. Get rid of the Alps - free view to the Mediterranean. Think freely, talk, be free, swim yourself free!  No more drowning in self pity. Floating in the wind with torn chains. To be free to say: Good bye. 

Paul had sent a music cassette along with his letter to the seagull in Hamburg. He did not want to write a letter to Lu. He was too scared that she never would read it, but just dump it into the rubbish bin. He had put The crying Tiger and Love is on tape and after the song, he talked toe songs he had talked to Lu and his little son. He just wanted Sean to hear his voice, so that he might be able to remember him. If Sean ever would hear that tape? Would Lu be strong enough to understand it? Before he sent the tape away, Paul had listened to it over and over again. But he did not find a single reason to change the text, or correct its meaning. What he said on the tape was the simple truth, which could not be changed.

Ebermergen 22.4.1996

Dearest Lu,
It is time to say Good bye to this drama, before it turns into a Greek tragedy. It is time, to say to Good bye to you, Good-bye to the love, for which I wanted to live.  It is time, to say Good bye to the dream of the house, which I wanted to find for us, which I wanted to build for you and our son with my own hands. Surely I will never look around for yet an other house like ours. The  life with you was much more, than only a house.  It represented the end of my search, the final, the beginning of a new beginning, so far removed from that what I never was able to find. So far away from the place, which I thought I must reach. God, I was looking for you so wearily and was so gratefully, when I finally found you. And now I have lost  everything. Farewell to the home, which we built for the future. Adieu to the trees, which we wanted to plant in our own garden.  Good bye to the plans, which we forged, to make our son happy. Adieu to the large potential, which our new beginning had given us. Farewell to the trust and the satisfaction, which I felt as "your man". I wanted to say Good bye to for so long.  Adieu.  You are free. You are completely and totally canceled from my life. What is it, what I cling on to.
Promises - the good, old "As soon as we.  .. " promises."  
New shows.  ...
Travel.  ...
Jobs.  ..
Success.  ...
Money.  ..
The house.  ..
Grow old together.  ..
Strange how those "As soon as I. ..." Promises have changed.

I love you, since you were the other half of our marriage, which I needed so
urgently, to feel  complete. Because you were the mother of our family, because I needed somebody, whom I could take care of, for whom I could be mother and father for in one person. I wanted to consult and inspire you.  You gave me the feeling, to be useful. You gave me safety.
I believe, I have said Good bye in more ways than I thought would be possible. You have been  gone already over a year - as you were long gone , before our life turned into misfortune.  Somehow there is still me and nowhere is written that I am now only a half person, only fifty percent of the man, who I once was.  I do not try, to say to Good bye to my self-esteem and my honor.  I have not lost that at all. Much more I try, to dismiss myself from the feeling, that I need your approval  to make my feels valuable.
Adieu, to your smile and your tenderness.
Adieu, to your beauty, your fabulous talent.
Adieu, to your wonderful voice and to the laughter, which made us happy so often.
The last Good byes are the positive ones.  
Because they say Good bye to all the negative things.

Adieu, to the feelings  of  enslavement.
Adieu, to my hope to push you away from me.
Adieu, to your petty nasty nagging.
Adieu, to my jealousy.
Adieu, to your aimlessness, to your missing creativity, your urge to please your
inability you, your faulty sensitivity, to your being ice cold.
Adieu, to my efforts, to teach you the truth.
Adieu, to your lust for power and to your dried up emotions and to your
humorless wit.
Adieu, to my vexation, to my anger and my hopelessness.  
Adieu, to my fear and aggression.
Adieu, to the feeling of  shame, when I grew angry and  have shown it,
the feeling of  inferiority, when I was foolish, the compunction, if I knew
the answer and you did not.

However never Adieu to our son, this is the only Adieu I am not bale to say, as well as I never was able to say Adieu to my daughters when you wanted it.

Adieu, to be able to finally say Welcome to you again.

Paul.

Paul had learned, that his Lu evidently had gone totally nuts. She went against all of their dreams and promises from earlier days, she moved into the most desolate street of  Hamburg - right at the drug and hooker square: The Hansaplatz. The street with the many Sex Bars and brothels and Porno Video Clubs. The street with the Hobos, Junkies, Hookers. In the street of no return. Right in the heart of the swamp.  She had returned home to her best friend, the devil.  She pulled along their son and the Bosnian wart-pig, about whom Paul recently learned that he not only had used his companies business line for his slimy sex calls, but also had stolen money from the cash box. His Lu moved into the gutter, together with her red couch, which was suitable for any decent whore.
She sank into the morass of  metropolis - she adopted - in order to fulfill her longing for freedom - the worst street in the Red Light District of  Hamburg.

Paul was so shocked by these new developments that he did not want to speak, think, feel, or even breath anymore. When he finally gained the courage to see her new production of Sweet Charity in Hamburg, he obviously made his final last mistake. He had promised the General Manager of the St. Pauli Theatre, where the show had opened,  to under no circumstances attend the Grand Opening, in order not  to increase the emotional stress of the "Star". Therefore he waited until the third performance. Vernon had ordered tickets. Paul was  tormented by horrible panic attics throughout the whole day. He trembled and hardly could not breathe because of  fear. When he and Vernon arrived in the auditorium and got seated, the reason for his desolate condition became quite clear. He sat directly beside his mother-in-law.  So fate exists at last. However.  He took a deep breath an politely - a well educated Tyrolian always keeps up his manners - he said, Hello, sat down and remained in silence. There they were - the two Brits, who since weeks had covered him with their poison and hate. Who had forced his wife, their own daughter to take this way, because otherwise there would not be any support from the Motherland of Fairness and Honor. There they sat, who wanted to alienate his son and his wife deprived.  What the British knights of middle-class were doing was murder for Paul. The perfect. legal murder of a man clod Paul Liver. Lu's parents got up, without having said one word to Paul, left the auditorium and fetched themselves new seats, far away from the Austrian scum who endangered their will to turn a little boy named Sean into a wimpy, stupid, arrogant and rules obeying respected member of their family. Rules. There is only one rule: Don't let yourself be ruled by anyone. Vernon was shocked. Like Paul he could not
understand this ruthless, cruel conduct. 

Paul knew, through the reviews, that Lu had great success, was celebrated as highly talented and professionally -" A voice like liquid glass" one trash paper exuberantly screamed.  How good Lu was, that  he knew. But the biggest Hamburg evening paper put everything to the point.:  ".  ..  however and unfortunately Lu Brydell is lacking  any human warmth, which would have been able to make the fate of the taxi Girl Sweet Charity plausibly to the audience."  Any human warmth.

Paul and Vernon left the performance in the brake.  The production was good.  
Cleverly staged, lots of action, with many, good ideas. Only Lu was cold as ice.  
Without a spark of heart, warmth, charm or sensuousness.  A machine.  A
copy of all the wonderful women, who became Stars, because they got just
this human warmth along with their talent put into their cradle.  At that
evening  Lu was better than Liza Minelli herself.  She exceeded by copying the original, 
however without their heart. Paul was shaken.  He did not want to remain outside at the Reeperbahn where the production of Cats was celebrating its tenth anniversary with the people of Hamburg. He wanted to hide away.  Home to the cave, to Vernon's place.  He wanted to get drunk and listen to only himself within himself.  Was there still a string in him, that wanted to produce a warm sound? Paul had not seen his son for more than eleven weeks, nor had he spoken to him via phone.  His longing burnt within him. For a long time he sat there with his fiend and talked through the night. He knew, what he had to do. After this evening it was finally clear. He stayed one more day in Hamburg and then drove back to Ebermergen. Home.  Home.  To Gretl - who immediately understood.  He wrote a last letter to his son and his wife.  He informed them, that he had understood. Totally.  Then he began to straighten up.  He gave away, or perhaps better - detoxified his entire belongings.  He only kept Laptop.  A couple of garments and his most important papers. Paul made his will and deposited it with Gretl.  He dismissed himself from his village, his harbor, his quiet haven, his power.  He did not weep. Paul had no more tears left.  The
reservoir was empty.  Dried up, like after a rainless summer in Australia. Paul took both legs into his hands and ran for his life.  The Crying tiger ran with him. Lord Nessi was thereby. Cuddle flew them ahead. The man from the other world joined them at the first crossing. The laughing prince left his eternal love and came along. The foreign Paul with the strange smile in the corners of his eyes  showed them the way.  And on this way, already behind the first turn, stood Marianne and when Paul saw her he decided to finally to that, what was his life long fear: To live his own life.

CHAPTER THIRTYTHREE

" If @@Marianne damns, growled raging through the
          very beautiful, nobly @@Blendamed taken care of, white tooth.  
          Again so a Monday, so a @@vermaledeiter.  You/They did not
          know personally, why she/it did itself each Monday tomorrow
          the stress, to enter by the cosy Augsburg the nearly endless
          way after @@Donauwörth, around in a wetland at the junction of
          Danube and @@Wörnitz their service at cash register @@Zwo
          anzutreten. @@"Krone  "called itself the establishment and
          @@Marianne was itself since months clearly over it, that
          them/it/her personally the only crown in this shed


          was.  Arrogantly, that called them/it/her some of the
          colleagues.  Just because she/it tried, to be to each
          friendly.  To each.  Which in the @@pinkfarbenen
          @@Plastikeinheitshaut was so simple the crown -
          @@kettenuniform not at all.  In the winter, if the
          @@Verkaufsräume were heated badly, there did not see
          personally the most slender staff members in these awful
          @@Kitteln like @@frischgepresste @@Schweinswürste from -
          however like sausages of the local butcher, but sooner like a
          @@Sondereinkauf at @@Aldi.  And in the summer, if the cashiers
          glowed at their cash registers like @@Glühwürmchen, there
          released the badly sitting @@Zweithäute the look on much too
          much.  There @@gezupft was dragged then and and before loud
          @@Peinlichkeit did not was correct in the evening the balance
          in the cash register.  "Arrogantly" , @@Marianne thought,
          while she/it tries again, to start their car.  " Arrogantly,
          that I do not laugh.  Just because all are envious, that the
          Messrs. acted from the ream now in @@Kilts at the
          cash register two.  Sometime the male clientele had discovered
          the sense of the mirrors over the cashiers.  And since
          @@Marianne was an extreme @@penible @@Spiegelguckerin, the
          Messrs. of the creation came to the @@Kiltidee.  Which Scots
          can, that can stood @@Mannsbilder from the Bavarian
          @@Schwabenländle already long.  In the summer they carried
          mostly nothing under their @@Kilts separate carried proudly
          their @@verschrumpeltes pendant to the show.  But in the
          winter looked them/it/her already a little bit absurdly, in
          their long underpants with the @@Stopfmustern of the
          grandmother on it and the @@Stallgaloschen at the feet.  But
          which soll's, men.  Everywhere immediately and however so
          indispensable.  Today, at this @@Märzmorgen, the damned car
          did not jump how so often at.  And their wonderful engraver
          lay above in that, finally again once @@heissgeliebten bed and
          snored itself the last @@Liebesnacht from the body.  You/They
          love their engraver, so like them/it/her all men love, who
          were at least a couple of years younger than them/it/her
          personally and made the appearance, that them/it/her something
          from money @@verstünden.  You/They did not have to have much
          money, but they had to can spend it with style.  " An
          expression was had taken over engravers  ", that so it
          them/it/her from the ream.  The @@Röthinger @@Karl, which with
          the dark, Spanish eyes and the complexion a @@Araberscheichs,
          it called all men, who he/it liked not, engravers.  @@Karl had
          in his life so often a @@Mistgabel under itself, that he/it
          knew, what so an engraver had to suffer.  However them/it/her
          personally had get useded meanwhile to this term of
          endearment.  Now, it was Monday tomorrow, she/it had just
          still sufficiently time, to come half-way promptly after
          @@Donauwörth and their damned car did not start.  Should
          she/it go to above and ask their loved @@Heisssporn for help?  
          Rather not.  She/it hated discussions at the early tomorrow
          and in last time had wept them/it/her already much to often
          secretly.  The red eyes excused them/it/her then always with
          an allergic reaction on it, lately already in March inserting,
          @@Pollenflug the @@Birkenblüten.  No, @@Marianne got rather
          once more deeply air, as she/it had done it already so often
          in their life and operated again the ignition key.  @@Trara!  
          One could rely on @@Marianne and their car in all situations
          and many would leave yes also from her then and when
          logically.  The car started and glad courage, a new, bleak
          Monday before eyes, raged @@Marianne, self-confident like it
          now once their kind was, @@gen @@Donauwörth of @@dannen.  
          @@Marianne felt well at this Monday.  She/it was
          @@dreiundvierzig, looked like tight @@zweiunddreissig and at
          good Saturdays, if she/it gave itself really trouble, she/it
          created easily also still @@achtunzwanzig.  Young wanted to be
          @@Marianne anyhow never, for too young did not chase off the
          potent @@Mitdreissiger and of it held them/it/her much.  
          @@Marianne was very @@lebenslustig.  Always already been.  
          Their son looked meanwhile, at @@schummriger
          @@Discobeleuchtung already just as old as them/it/her
          personally - only not so beautifully.  Yes, which lived small
          @@Fratz already in an own apartment and presented them/it/her
          usually as his cousin from Hungary.  To Hungary he/it came
          because of the language of his mother.  @@Marianne spoke
          really no dialect.  She/it celebrated a Hungarian, rolling
          @@"R" and an almost French accent, which fitted excellently
          with their @@Schuhgrösse forty, but hardly with the rural area
          of the giant at the romantic street.  @@Marianne drove over
          the first red light and waved the policeman at the corner,
          which she/it left sit, because he/it not promise had to be her
          at the latest in two years @@Hauptkommisar and had worked
          he/it it until today.  Which @@Marianne was not could know
          naturally, that the poor policeman could become @@Xaver never
          @@Hauptkommisar, for he/it had neither as mayors
          run for office, nor had he/it @@Mariannes instinctive bite.  
          @@Xaver had transferred itself since @@Mariannes statement
          from the common apartment on a new hobby:  He/it pursued blond
          women at red lights.  The @@Fängerquote in the Danube -
          @@Rieskreis climbed since then jerkily and the hairdressers of
          the environment offered already specials for @@Umfärbungen by
          blond on @@blauschwarz for the tormented @@Blondinenwelt.  
          However @@Xaver was clever - he/it recognized a blond also in
          @@rabenschwarzer night.  He/it attracted the @@erdunkelten
          blonds with a friendly smile at red over the crossing - if the
          ladies departed were despite red them/it/her for @@Xaver
          clearly blond - stood still them/it/her well and waited for
          green, were them/it/her for @@Xaver uninteresting.  He/it had
          gotten itself with this method already seventeen commendations
          and the @@Polizeidirektor considered a privilege for @@Xaver.  
          @@Xaver should may fly at the expense of the taxpayer two
          weeks to @@Bangkok.  As thanks, for which so tightly filled
          @@Polizeikassen.  However the good @@Xaver refused.  He/it
          knew, that there was in @@Bangkok only genuine
          @@Schwarzhaarige.  There the @@Kick was missing him/it.  
          He/it stood still rather at his crossing and longed for
          @@Marianne.


          " @@Gosch @@heit @@mid in the @@Grammophon  "growled @@Karl and
          drove itself @@genüsslich over the @@kurzgeschorenen
          Stuzterschnurr-bart.


          "What do I should there?"  asked the @@gramgebeugte Paul
          back.  Paul suffered.  As a young sow, which had not yet
          been to Christmas fat enough, to submit a competent
          @@Weihnachtsgans.  Thereupon his wife had left him/it with the
          latest pig and was pulled to the @@Laufsteghühnern after
          Hamburg.


          " In the @@Grammphon @@hockad often @@saugeile @@Büchsa
          @@rom.  "  grunted @@Karl happily.  "My can is loaded no more,"
          my Paul dryly and wrote further.  " you @@muasch the @@jo
          @@ned @@glei @@verliaba.  @@Nimmsch @@euna @@mid and
          @@gschobsch, that @@se @@spätesden noch'm @@Füastück @@widdr
          @@gonnt,  "@@maulte @@Karl.


         "Time see," said Paul and decided, to board at this memorable
          Monday in March with his friend @@Karl the underworld
          @@Donauwörths.


         As @@Marianne arrived felt in the crown - purchase - cent in
          @@Donauwörth them/it/her somehow @@mulmig.  On the really so
          short excursion she/it had thought long.  Over their life,
          their constantly changing @@Lebensbeziehungen.  Why did their
          friends have to be always younger than them/it/her?  Made
          them/it/her the likewise young, or only around so old.  What
          dreamt she/it, where wanted to be them/it/her?  Who wanted to
          be them/it/her.  Somehow she/it had always the feeling, that
          she/it has come too shortly.  She/it knew, that she/it looked
          well, no, excellently looked.  She/it knew also, that in their
          eyes a spark glimmered, which had many men dreamt.  Why did
          she/it see this spark never in the eyes of a man?  Why could
          they dream no more.  Had she/it dreamt ever?  Was it that now?  
          Monday and Tuesday at cash register two in the crown in Danube
          - @@wörth?


          we greet @@"Und like each Monday tomorrow around seven minutes
          after eight completely cordially our number of egg at
          cash register two - @@Marianne, which other cashier at crown.  
          Cash register make can each, but nobody makes cash register
          with as much class as @@Marianne,  "fluteed @@Anita -
          Chefauskunftgebe-rin of the supermarket through the
          @@Durchrufanlage, as @@Marianne stormed with waving horsetail
          and extremely unfortunately over the obligatory delay at their
          cash register.  @@Gottseidank were first two, or three
          customers in the market and so saw nobody, who now @@Marianne
          of cash register was real two.


         @@Marianne thought still:  "The @@zeig ich's this evening in
          our favorite pub" , flew over quickly the list the
          @@Sonderpreise of the present day and opened their
          cash register.  Again a day the @@Superpreise and the
          @@Kiltmänner and the sweating housewives and the tormented
          mothers and @@genervten @@Marktleiter and envious colleagues.  
          Eyes to and through - so ugly and insignificant be, how only
          somehow possible and at nothing think.  Merely do not think.


         @@"Kasse two please to the information,  "fluteed @@Anita.  The
          good @@Anita - she/it worried about @@Marianne, to see which
          forgot always on the clock and would have missed so usually
          their barely measured lunch break.


           "Cash register two to the information" meant pause.  
          @@Marianne closed their cash register and went in their pause.  
          Thirty minutes - quickly a @@Happen eaten, a small @@Plausch,
          a look in the mirror - not too long, for which she/it saw
          there, that had to do nothing with the @@Marianne, which
          wanted to see them/it/her in the mirror.  However today she/it
          stuck at the mirror.  She/it considered their folds - around
          the eyes - that are @@Lachfalten thought them/it/her - she/it
          considered their eyes - sadly looked them/it/her her from the
          mirror against.  Why so sadly, @@dacht goes @@Marianne still -
          the you however well.  She/it licked itself once more the full
          lips damp, a custom, to give which used them/it/her around
          their lips some color, if she/it could direct no lipstick.  
          @@Marianne did not know, how long she/it had dreamt at this
          Monday before the mirror, however suddenly noticed
          them/it/her, that she/it had overstepped their lunch break
          around some.  Quickly she/it smoothed itself the @@haare,
          which had curled in the @@Hektik at the cash register again so
          @@neckisch around their ears and ran to their job.  @@Peng
          made it.


          " Who to the devil has set up in the middle of my normal way
          to my cash register these damned newsstand?  "  shot it
          @@Marianne still through the head.  "And why is just today the
          boss there, where he/it crouches however otherwise on Monday
          always in the @@Konzernzentrale?"  But it was too late.  In
          contrast to @@Anita, which needed at least a half hour, until
          she/it arrived made by @@A after @@B @@Marianne always
          considerably steam.  And so rattled them/it/her with full
          force in the newsstand and from @@Focus to mirrors, from
          @@Beate @@Uses new catalog up to the goldens leaf got the
          newspapers and magazines wings and fluttered cheerfully the
          @@geschockten customers around the ears.  @@Marianne saw
          suddenly everything in slow motion.  She/it saw the boss
          @@krebsrot become, she/it saw the customers the hands over the
          head together hit, she/it saw the envious colleagues
          gloatingly grin and she/it saw itself personally, how she/it
          sank before shame in the floor.  However sudden it was awfully
          quietly around them/it/her.  She/it opened slowly the eyes and
          wiped itself an isolated tear of the anger from the
          @@Augenwinkel.  She/it sat completely alone between the
          scattered newspapers.  The department store was empty, as
          died out.


          " Hello, is there somebody?  "  if @@Marianne trusted itself
          timidly to call, however it @@echote only awfully back.  
          She/it was completely alone actually.  She/it looked right
          moving, as them/it/her there, with far @@ausgespreizten legs
          amid the @@Zeitungschaoses sat.  The horsetail had come off
          and their blond hair @@kringelten itself, how galvanizes
          around their ears.  As she/it sat saw again there so
          them/it/her to the first times since long during like sixteen
          from.


         "May help I them?"  if a dark voice and @@Marianne asked drove
          frightened around around to see, who she/it addressed there so
          impudently.  @@Marianne saw only eyes.  Steel-blue eye with a
          black ring around the iris.  Did they laugh at these eyes
          about?  Somehow @@glimmerte there a smile in these wonderful
          eyes.  If @@Marianne amazes nodded to the eyes and to pick up
          began eye in eye with the blue eyes the newspapers.  She/it
          saw actually only the eyes and never the face or the whole man
          before her.  Like in trance sank them/it/her in these enticing
          eyes and sailed on a white yacht through the Caribbean, flew
          with the @@Concorde of Paris to New York, strolled through
          @@Sydney and fed the baboons in Kenya.  Wherever she/it looked
          @@hinkam them/it/her in these blue eyes and in them
          was reflected the wonderful world in the most satisfied
          colors.  And if she/it saw itself even in these eyes, then
          discovered them/it/her a happily radiating Mrs. without fear
          before the future, the age, the daily cares, the men and
          before itself personally.  She/it felt how weightless during
          them/it/her the newsstand again filled and smiled amuses in
          itself in.  @@Marianne knew not at all, how very beautiful
          she/it was, if she/it smiled.  However today she/it saw it for
          the first time in the eyes with the dark voice that she/it was
          at the life.


         " Misses @@Marianne please immediately for the management
           "rattled it from the loudspeakers.  Sudden was everything
          again loudly and busily around @@Marianne around.  The
          department store was no more empty, she/it saw again the
          mocking grin of the colleagues, whom @@krebsroten boss, the
          gaping customers and @@Anita, which gathered @@prustend
          magazines and newspapers.


         "Now @@mach already, @@beeil you and go to the boss," growled
          @@Anita and a little bit sympathy resonated in the voice.


          " I @@räum that here for you on.  Go already.  "


          @@Marianne looked itself astonishes around and looked for in
          the faces of the customers for the blue eyes.  Had she/it
          dreamt?  Had she/it become mad?  Where was the white yacht,
          where the @@Concorde?  Where the opera house of @@Sydney.  
          Where the baboons?  @@Marianne had to laugh suddenly.  The
          baboons stood yes gaping before her.  That is @@halt the cross
          in Germany.  The persons do not gape very gladly and
          suspected, that they looked thereby like baboons.


          "Thanks" whispered them/it/her @@Anita to and progressed on
          the way to the crucifixion.  " Hat's our @@Primadonna again
          once catches,  "growled gloatingly the @@Stixin, as @@Marianne
          passed by at her.  However today their @@Marianne gave only a
          radiating smile and hurried further in the office the
          @@Marktleiters.


          "Yes has stung now this arrogant @@Miststück a bumblebee?"  
          escaped it the @@Stixin.  " Laughs them me however actually
          middle in the face, these @@ausgschamte barbarian, who
          @@ausgschamte.  From you @@mach I also still at useful
          persons, you person!  "


          The @@Stixin could talk itself wonderfully in anger, their
          creaking @@Whiskeystimme rolled then like thunder and flash
          through the shopping center.  However @@Marianne troubled that
          today not at all.  Smiling she/it stood before their boss,
          smiling had they been issued the @@Schimpftirade over itself
          and smiling returned them/it/her at their cash register and
          progressed at the work.  As kindly and attentive as at this
          Monday a customer was served still never in the crown.  
          @@Marianne sat at their cash register, hummed softly before
          itself there and presented the @@versauerten customers with
          their smile.  "What is it with you loose," stung the voice
          @@Anitas like a knife of behind on @@Marianne a.  " Are you
          still at us, or already in a @@Gummizelle?  "  "Why?"  asked
          @@Marianne innocently back.


          " Because you there @@rumsitzt like a @@Rauschgoldengel with
          your confused hair and the stupid grin in the face.  The
          customers complain already, whether you progress over
          them/it/her merrily.  "


          "Reading them/it/her however.  Me geht's well.  Me geht's
          brilliantly.  @@Gehn we after office hours in the
          @@Grammophon?"


         " There @@gehn we however each Monday there,  "@@maulte @@Anita.


           "Yes, but today especially.  Makes @@siebenundsechzig -
          @@neunundneunzig.  And still a beautiful day."


         " Thanks  "stammered the astonished customer and went
          @@kopfschüttelnd to the exit.  @@Anita watched @@Marianne
          still a while at the work and went back then, likewise
          @@kopfschüttelnd and easily distractedly to their information
          center.


          "So a mad hen," thought @@Anita.


          " From it becomes however no clever.  "


          But which soll's, it was just the day, at which the newsstands
          collapsed.


          In the evening the @@eingeschworenen met @@Grammo @@Fans in
          their favorite pub.  A @@urigen restaurant with condoms over
          the entrance, old @@Plüschsofas and a boss, who cooked the
          dearest for himself personally.  @@Spätzle with fresh
          @@Pfifferlingen had done it him/it especially.  His companion
          made @@Tresendienst and had reinvented well the art of the
          calculating.  She/it counted like from an other world.  Two
          and two is five plus one is seven plus two makes ten.  
          Evidently ten beer calculated themselves more easily than the
          actually drunk seven.  But which @@solls, which did good
          @@Grammophon his guests simply.  @@Anita and their sister
          @@Anneliese were already there, as @@Marianne flew in with
          cheerfully gleaming cheeks in the @@Grammophon.


         "Eggs glasses and beautiful music please," called them/it/her
          @@Tommy and slammed itself on the stool in their
          @@Lieblingsecke.


          " May sit I a little bit to the ladies?  "  if a Mr. advice
          asked from the @@Stadtverwaltung and sat already.  The fellow
          was taken in exceedingly by himself and thought well, about
          this Monday be Christmas and birthday at the same time.  
          There he/it sat before the ladies from the working world and
          @@schwadronierte which the stuff held.  His @@Gockelkamm was
          to be seen up to the @@Zugspitze, so swelled he/it.  For the
          four @@Spätlesemädchen was the completely funny, for they knew
          such types and progressed sometimes a joke with them.


          "That is my @@Spetzl, which Paul.  @@Karl presented a
          genuine @@Ebermergener from Tyrol," the man, whom in the
          @@Grammophon up to now still never somebody had seen.  Paul
          nodded in the round and sat at the counter and ordered a glass
          of wine.  The visit in @@Karls favorite restaurant was
          somewhat painful for Paul.  Paul liked no bars.  He/it sat
          yes over two hundred days in the year at @@Hotelbars and
          had to listen to itself there the @@elendigen histories the
          @@Hosenknopfvertreter and traveler in matters
          @@Schraubendrehlager.  But for the sake of @@Karl had gone
          along he/it @@halt.  Paul needed The @@Karl sometimes as
          settlement for his @@Ehewirrwarr and as @@Klagemauer.  Paul
          could listen well and knew also frequently a meaningful
          advice.  @@Marianne was just in a deep @@un - ingenious
          discussion with the Mr. advice, which told her any something
          by manhood and Bavarian @@Manneshaltung and so looked up
          them/it/her hardly, as @@Karl presented Paul.


          " The @@sen @@dia @@Büchsa, which where @@i @@gmoint @@hab,
           "murmured @@Karl.  Paul turned around secretly and examined
          itself the ladies somewhat more exactly.


          "Who is the blond?"


          " The @@ischt @@Marianne.  Slide @@arbeita all at the crown
          and the @@Marianne @@hot so at @@junga engravers, so at
          @@eifersüchtiga.  At the @@got the @@nauf and @@ra.  The
          @@isch @@a @@weng @@a @@Gschutzte.  "


          "But very beautifully.  She/it has something.  Who is the type
          at them?"  " It comes @@net often @@do @@rei.  The @@isch @@a
          @@Amtsrat or so which.  The @@raschpelt @@Süssholz that @@dr
          the @@Ohra @@klingla.  @@A chatterers.  "


          Paul listened the chatterer a @@zeitlang and observed now
          completely openly the @@Frauenquartett with their
          @@Montagsgalan.  @@Anita noticed the open look of the foreign
          guest first and began, playfully, to stare back.  She/it
          noticed well instinctively, that the mocking smile in the eyes
          could make Paul's the evening still completely merrily.  
          Paul tried of course again and again @@Blickkontakt to
          @@Marianne to get, however them was to deepen in their
          philosophical discussion with the @@Anbaggerer of the office.


          "@@Komm, @@os crouches @@se to @@de henna with @@no," my
          @@Karl and put already the glasses on the table reserved for
          regular customers the @@Kronedamen.  " The @@isch the Paul
          and the @@ischt @@Anita, @@Anneliese and the @@Marianne.  "


          "Women do not interest me," said Paul and saw thereby
          @@Marianne deeply in the eyes.  " I stand to my
          homosexuality.  "


         @@Marianne saw now for the first time Paul directly in the
          face and saw only the blue eyes from the crown.


           However @@Marianne was an extremely disciplined Mrs. and
          swallowed their surprise rather down.  She/it believed Paul
          no word.  None of the ladies at the table believed Paul his
          @@Schwulsein.  "I must excuse me at you," said Paul to the
          Mr. advice.  " But I observe them/it/her now already a while
          of behind and must say, I am fascinates from them.  Surely - I
          know that they are not @@schwul, but I wanted to say it you
          simply.  "


         And so developed a @@Streitgespräch over the sense and nonsense
          of homosexuality and whether for a genuine Bavarian could
          admit so something.  Paul drove the game something too far
          and so came it in conclusion almost to a fight between that,
          meanwhile @@sturzbetrunkenen, advice and @@Karl.  The Mr.
          advice was brought by a friend cordially from the restaurant
          and at the @@Kronestammtisch developed a dedicated
          conversation over the incident.  Paul had reached his goal.  
          The @@Hahnenkamm was away, which had to laugh @@Grammophon
          something and he/it personally could concentrate finally on
          @@Marianne.  However @@Marianne @@blockte all questions
          instinctively from.  Paul did not know, whether she/it was
          irritated, or whether they did not interest actually, or only
          in this way did.  It made also nothing.  Paul was not in
          search of an adventure.  He/it had sufficiently adventures
          behind itself and wanted really only his quiet.  However
          Paul love the women and especially the ones, at which he/it
          discovered a certain longing.  @@Marianne was one of these
          women and she/it fascinated Paul.


          After this memorable Monday, the day as the newsstands
          collapsed, to divide tried Paul his journeys to Hamburg so,
          that he/it could go on Monday with @@Karl in the @@Grammophon.  
          Paul took itself very long time from @@Ebermergen to
          say goodbye.  It fell him/it endlessly with difficulty and
          completely deeply below in the stomach hoped he/it well always
          still, that in the matter Lu could emerge perhaps however
          still a turn.  He/it missed his son and he/it drove therefore
          once a week in the north, waited for a sign of Lu, @@besoff
          himself with @@Vernon and drove @@unverrichteter things again
          to Bavaria.  And so met he/it the @@Damenriege each Monday,
          chatted with them and looked again and again deeply in
          @@Mariannes eyes.


          "I have a very well going relationship" hammered @@Marianne
          again and again.  " I am happy.  It goes me well.  Nothing
          is missing me.  "


          Like a prayer she/it remained steadfast and in further
          distance.  That she/it was not to be persuaded once, to go
          with in the @@Grammophon, at home sat because them/it/her and
          after a quarrel with their engraver the eyes @@ausweinte, that
          did not hinder them/it/her of it, to keep iron at the
          @@Kandare, to not sink merely once more in the steel-blue eyes
          dreaming.  @@Marianne was it familiar, itself in all
          situations @@durchzubeissen and she/it wanted to be hurt under
          no circumstances.  Nobody should hurt them/it/her per again.  
          Already not at all a @@halbseidener @@Ebermergener from Tyrol,
          a windy @@Theatermacher, a traveling in matters art, which
          did not want to become settled, which his children had
          scattered over the whole world and it evidently despite his
          @@dreiundvierzig years always still dreamt like a small child.  
          It always only said what he/it thought and if it was so brutal
          still.  If @@Marianne Had reached really already the end of
          the flagpole, or to discover gave it there something else new
          in their life.  On Monday before the final departure Paul's
          in a new life, there sat @@Marianne alone in the @@Grammophon.  
          She/it had crouched the legs @@hochgelegt and, as exhausts, in
          their corner and drank their @@Weissweinschorles in itself in.  
          As Paul and @@Karl arrived, she/it wanted to go really just.  
          However she/it remained and chatted with the both inveterate
          friends from @@Ebermergen.  At this Monday was not @@Marianne
          also for the first time so self-assured.  She/it put itself
          the drilling questions Paul's, without giving however clear
          and concrete answers.  As she/it took leave, Paul said he/it
          would write is something over, up to the next Monday, which
          @@Abschiedstag for well very long time.  @@Marianne countered
          and mean, also she/it would bring something over Paul to
          paper.  As Paul went however under the week once alone in
          the @@Grammophon to the meal, he/it met @@Anita and the
          @@Stixin, which mean laconically, @@Marianne is to be written
          much to @@gestresst around any something over Paul.  
          Besides she/it would have not taken Paul seriously and
          believed never, that itself hurl would to write down this
          actually at the computer around the history of the day at that
          of the newsstands collapsed.  Now, so @@Marianne had
          miscalculated again once in a person crude.  And Paul hoped,
          that he/it had not progressed for nothing the trouble.  "The
          day as the newsstands collapsed or @@Marianne bites itself
          through" was called the small history, which he/it had written
          over @@Marianne.  @@Marianne bites itself through - doubtful
          is bites only whether them/it/her itself through a sausage,
          through dry bread or through concrete.  Paul would become
          the memory at @@Marianne well for years with itself
          @@herumtragen.  That is go now just so with persons, who equal
          mean really that and however usually, from fear or
          superficiality out separate ways.


          " I @@lass it me only still well go,  "@@posaunte @@Marianne
          often in the area and did not notice thereby the compassionate
          faces of their environment.  Paul was it fully alike, which
          @@Marianne led for a life.  He/it wanted to know it not at
          all, for he/it had undertaken for the own future firmly, any
          past rest to leave.  If a person should emerge in his life
          once more, who had Paul flown again, then wanted to
          look back he/it only still after in front and never again.  
          For this reason he/it had to extinguish yes also decided his
          current life radically.


         "If you were not then really in the crown, as the newsstands
          collapsed?"  if @@Marianne asked, after she/it had perused
          Paul's history in a jerk.


          " Dignity it something change, if I would have been there?  "  
          asked Paul softly back.  "But I @@hab the eyes actually
          seen.  There were really exactly your."  " Then I was also
          there.  "


          "The gibt's however not.  How can be for so something?"  
          asked @@Marianne helplessly.  " Dreams,  "said Paul dryly.


          And @@Marianne began to weep and to smile simultaneously.  "If
          I would have more courage, then would go I with you," sobbed
          them/it/her in their spritzer.  " To it it needs no courage,
           "my Paul.


          "Specials?"


          " Something which you in my regard is missing.  "


          "Love?  Them increases yes then perhaps."


         " If she/it has increased, then come to after Hamburg,  "said
          Paul harshly and went on the toilet.  As he/it came back sat
          @@Marianne pensive at the counter.  She/it examined in
          archly from the page here and mean then:  "you are not has
          attached the first fellow it me, Paul.  For it I thank you.  
          For it I have large respect."


         Respect is also that, which I have at the moment at the
          @@nnötigsten,  "growled Paul and gave her a kiss - on the
          forehead, however @@Marianne took his head in both hands and
          kissed him/it very softly and long.


          She/it hemmed and said loudly in the round:  "That her my
          engraver however merely nothing says. That was a @@Dankeschön
          and otherwise not at all.  Clearly?"


          " @@Ehrensache,  "@@lallte it eternally drunks butchers from
          mountain in his glass and considered, whether he/it should go
          immediately to the telephone, to submit his friend,
          @@Mariannes engravers a report, or whether he/it should order
          perhaps however rather previously still a beer.  "And you have
          sold actually everything.  Everything given up which you had?"  
          if @@Marianne and one asked could hear the large astonishment
          in their voice.


          " Yes.  On Saturday was day of the open door.  It was cruel,
          to watch, as the people carried matters from the apartment,
          which have accompanied me almost twenty years.  I have only
          still my @@Laptop, my @@Mercedes, papers and a couple of
          clothes.  Easy luggage calls itself that.  Before me nobody
          must have more fear.  My knapsack is fill empty and I become
          him/it never again.  "


          Paul had wept at the last Saturday almost the whole night,
          so hard met him/it the conduct of the people, who had taken
          his apartment like a swarm of parasites.  On Sunday
          tomorrow had been for Paul then everything clear.  With
          extremely easy luggage Paul started through, to be in the
          second half of his life completely openly for everything news.  
          And @@Marianne?  If she/it wanted to to sit actually each
          Monday after @@Donauwörth rage around at cash register two.  
          Wanted to dream them/it/her really furthermore only from
          @@Gran @@Canaria, again and again.  Did she/it want to to
          remain furthermore only younger men in their life leave around
          personally young?  Or would have them/it/her one day the
          courage and do not drive completely alone and altogether
          secretly to Hamburg, to look over once, whether she/it would
          recognise itself in the steel-blue eyes again personally.  
          Each bites itself through and each has earned at least once a
          day, at which a newsstand collapses.


CHAPTER THIRTYFOUR

Paul moved into Vernon's flat in Hamburg.  From the minute village somewhere in Bavaria to the village like quarters of Eppendorf in the big city of Hamburg. The two friends established a new Company. They finally wanted to do, what they were made for: Create their own theatre. Put new plays and musicals on the market. Nurture German works. They convinced the St. Pauli theatre in Hamburg to produce Hair together with them. They set up their office in the back part of the huge flat. Paul only left the apartment to go shopping. He took care of the organizational part of the new firm,  played the cleaning lady, cooked daily, in hundreds of  variations Indian, Italian, Chinese, but also Austrian and when he felt especially well even Bohemian.

For the first time in his life, Paul learned to play games. For hours he sat in front of the computer and played Shanghai.  Almost daily he phones his Gretl, once a week his sister Babs in Tyrol.  At one of these conversations Babs said to him:
"You are doing exactly the right thing.  Finally you once again are the moving target, which you always were and no one ever was able to hit. When you have your custody trial, just act out the kangaroo. Jump up and down and smile. You are free, Paul."

Freedom - no more  being the fool. No longer be the rover on the run. Free. Finally free. 

Paul said those words, every night before he went to sleep, he repeated the words as if they were a secret prayer. No more being the fool.

Paul lost the custody trial in grand style. Lu was very clever.  Shortly before the tr