 |
| Hans-Günter Quaschinsky 'Berlin, Bernauer Straße, Grenze' (1955) |
They are all making plans alone. The plan is a tunnel, or you would have to go straight out into the desert, would have to free the camel from the zoo, untie it, saddle it up, ride on it through Brandenburg. You could depend on the camel.
It must be a "disharmony." Something is seeping through the whole city; everyone is sure they have read or heard "disharmony," and some even thought about it, but publicly it’s nowhere to be found. Still more trees are being planted, all in the sand, trees from the desert experience.
Berlin has been tidied up. (…) The sand is everywhere now – in the shoes, on the coal. (…) Below it, a pub is still open in Alt-Moabit, but no one understands how it’s possible. After all, the city has been tidied up. The owner pours double schnapps, then buys a round himself; his pub was the best, the oldest, always full of people. But these people are no longer in Berlin. (…) No one wants to talk anymore either, they speak only to say something, anything, and in any case everything runs out of the corners of their mouths and away, everything double.
At night all Berlin is a place for turnover and exchange. Everything gets mixed up in confusion, then some people pull away. Espionage has an easy time of it, every collapse is transparent. Everyone is out to get rid of his own secret, to surrender his news, to break down during interrogation. Everyone has everyone else on his neck, and in the dim light no one can check the bill foisted on them. Outside it’s morning again, it’s too bright.
INGEBORG BACHMANN 'Ein Ort für Zufälle' (1964)