Gäste

„Leipzig ist offenbar nicht unsere Stadt.“ Ich weiß nicht, ob meine Anspielung ankommt. Eine Reaktion erhalte ich nicht.

Ich muss arbeiten.

Bedrückung.
„Often guests forget their things. Leave their hats, their coats and rings. Other people leave their stains; leave their shadows, leave their pains. Some people leave their bones. Some things you can’t return.
Shadows people leave behind, eventually are bound to find something you may never see. Still it haunts your memory. Some people bring their stones, never take them home. Some things you can’t return.
Houses have a memory. The more you carry in, the more you leave behind.“

Ich denke darüber nach, mehrere Monate nach Buenos Aires zu gehen. Eine neue Stadt, eine neue Aufgabe, ein neues Kapitel.

Schon wieder Tränen.

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