I will not
forsake, the colours that you bring
But the
night you filled with fireworks
They left
you with nothing
I am still
enchanted by the light you brought to me
Stuck in a moment that you
can’t get out of - U2
shit
it’s gone
it's gone
the photo
shit, man, fuck
you start pacing back and forth, run back to the living room, only to return to the kid's bedroom a moment later. But that is the English-German dictionary? Isn't it? Or was it in the other one?
no, it wasn't. Shit. Deliberately not the German-Spanish one. No. Shit
surely she hasn’t found it. Rubbish. But it’s gone
there is
nothing there
but where is it then? Maybe it's fallen out. But there is nothing, nothing lying on the floor, under the bookshelf. Nothing. Fucking hell.
This
feeling of tears welling up in your eyes. You’re
writing on the Student Handbook 1999, you want to hold on to the moment.
You won't forget that photo. Never. Conchita.
Concepción. You see it in front of
you, you see her
She's sitting at that table, smiling slightly. Wearing her blue trackie bottoms and that Bacardi T-shirt. The one with the bat. Was it Bacardi? Yeah, it was. You haven’t forgotten it.
Her last photo is gone. You check again. There is nothing there. Shit, man. Student Handbook 1999. 1999. Concepción. Conchita. She’s sitting in the kitchen of her flat. So beautiful. Was she beautiful? She was, for you. Those lips. I want to kiss her, touch her thighs, her shoulders, hold her tight, kiss her hair, protec
She's sitting at that table, smiling slightly. Wearing her blue trackie bottoms and that Bacardi T-shirt. The one with the bat. Was it Bacardi? Yeah, it was. You haven’t forgotten it.
Her last photo is gone. You check again. There is nothing there. Shit, man. Student Handbook 1999. 1999. Concepción. Conchita. She’s sitting in the kitchen of her flat. So beautiful. Was she beautiful? She was, for you. Those lips. I want to kiss her, touch her thighs, her shoulders, hold her tight, kiss her hair, protec
You forget the night around you, see the reflection of your daughter's brightly lit
bedroom with its birthday streamers and balloons in the dark window. You’re tired. Absolutely
knackered. Your ears are buzzing. You can’t describe it, this feeling
you’ll
never be able to do so, never
this fucking shit, eh
This feeling, this feeling of something welling
up in your eyes. Just cry, let it out, as Pauline used to say. Let it out! The whole
shite. You - have - got - to - let -
go! Fucking let go! Like back then, back in Aberdeen.
You start scratching at your underpants, sniffing at your
fingers. Outside, a bus is driving past. It’s quiet. Crying. You don’t want to
remember, want to hold on to her, the memory of her
That
was really shitty of her, to take away the
photo. She could have at least left the photo alone. At least the photo. Maybe she has still got it. She knows that you can’t ask her. She
knows that you will ask
her, that you will mention the photo, eventually. But what
else can I do? Then she’ll know that you are still thinking about
Conchita. But so you are. After all this time. She will think that you have still got feelings for her. Which you do. The photo is not there anymore. It was the last photo you had of her. She didn't
know it was the last.
And still
Tiredness, this feeling of being empty inside,
totally empty. Tomorrow you’ll ask her. Not right now, not in the middle of the
night. That wouldn’t
tomorrow she'll be just as angry
tomorrow she'll be just as angry
The night around you. These moments
before you fall asleep. You’re thinking, lying in your bed, still awake, you want to be able to sleep, and, at the same time, you don’t
before you fall asleep. You’re thinking, lying in your bed, still awake, you want to be able to sleep, and, at the same time, you don’t
Falling
asleep is like dying, you can’t do anything against it, you can’t do anything
to prevent it. The only bad thing are the thoughts that precede it.
Every
day I die a little more
No
No
NO that’s
crap
It’s gone. Damn it. Draw a line. Un corte. Un corte, fucking hell.
"No, I don’t want to be with
you anymore.
Where do I begin? Where do I stop? No. I don’t want to stop, I can’t
My thoughts are full of pictures.
What’s that supposed to mean, “full of pictures”?
Conchita on the beach, Conchita at the cinema, her hands in the computer room. The way she put them over your eyes. Her face.
¡Eheu!
Her slow, shuffling gait doesn't bode well. It was already over by then.
I
can’t take it any longer.
Do you
understand me?
Why
don’t you just come upstairs with me? Please.
Just
for a minute.
“No.
I
can’t be with you.
I’ve
thought about it, about us.
No.
No.
Did she put it like that? Or what exactly did she say? You can’t remember. She did
come up to your room with you, eventually. And
then
Where do I begin? Where do I stop? No. I don’t want to stop, I can’t
My thoughts are full of pictures.
What’s that supposed to mean, “full of pictures”?
Conchita on the beach, Conchita at the cinema, her hands in the computer room. The way she put them over your eyes. Her face.
¡Eheu!
You start scratching your balls again. It’s quiet, dead quiet. You hear this strange humming, buzzing, droning, I don’t know. Inside your ears. Monotonous as your life. Your life. Back again, back here in Germany. You want to the pen
you want to go back to your bed. What’s keeping you? You can’t write anymore. You
rub your eyes. Like the sound the fridge makes, your ears. She can’t take the
photo away, just like that, the stupid cow. She’s probably torn it to pieces, small pieces
"I haven’t read your letter. I ripped it up straight away.
Only
scraps are left. The only thing that ever remains are scraps. A part
of her face, the table, her breasts. Her small breasts. You’ve still got
this slip of paper she gave you, but you don’t know where it is. You’ve
never got down to sorting
your papers from Aberdeen and you won’t do so any time soon. It must be
somewhere in there, among these papers. What did it say again?
What did she say again?
Let’s stay friends. Friends. Ten points to stay friends with the woman you love. A heap of old papers. And somewhere among them her list. Her friendship agreement. All very formal, very official. Written in her hand. Somewhere. Were it really points or more? You don’t remember. You don’t even remember one single point. Not even one fucking point. Yes you do.
We always sit next to each other in Old English, you pick me up in the morning, we go out together salir de marcha, I’d never heard that one before, salir de marcha. Perhaps they only say that in Spain, not in
Let’s stay friends. Friends. Ten points to stay friends with the woman you love. A heap of old papers. And somewhere among them her list. Her friendship agreement. All very formal, very official. Written in her hand. Somewhere. Were it really points or more? You don’t remember. You don’t even remember one single point. Not even one fucking point. Yes you do.
We always sit next to each other in Old English, you pick me up in the morning, we go out together salir de marcha, I’d never heard that one before, salir de marcha. Perhaps they only say that in Spain, not in
Salir de marcha. Marcharse. Ligarse. You want to
remember. You want to That
night at the movies. We walked extra slow on our way home after the film,
letting Pauline and Jonas go ahead. On purpose. And then, suddenly,
when they weren’t watching, I pulled at Conchita's arm and we disappeared into this side alley, laughing. She
laughed. We laughed. Come on, I said, pulling her away with me. Let’s go this way.
Quick! Come on! Pauline and Jonas didn’t notice anything.
Now that you’ve taken away the photo, I’ve started writing, I’ve started to remember.
Conchita.
The whole night, if necessary. Writing against the fucking night.
We watched The Mummy. With those insects that got under people's skin, eating them up from the inside. Hollowed out from the inside. How did they do that? They crawled up their victims’ bodies, right under the skin, until they reached their head I think. Or did they? Thrilling. All the time I was thinking about putting my arm around you, but I didn’t dare. I still remember that. Not much more, though. You were sitting next to me. Don’t stop writing. You mustn’t stop writing. It’s probably already around half past twelve but... I can’t remember my nervousness, my feelings. I ran away from Pauline and Jonas and said: Let’s go this way. ¡Vamos por aquí! Acá. Here. They won’t come back looking for us. I wanted to be alone with Conchita. Alone with her. We ran into this narrow alley and came to a halt in front of a wall. We would’ve almost run against it. Shit. Back again. We can’t go on here. Fuck
Now that you’ve taken away the photo, I’ve started writing, I’ve started to remember.
Conchita.
The whole night, if necessary. Writing against the fucking night.
We watched The Mummy. With those insects that got under people's skin, eating them up from the inside. Hollowed out from the inside. How did they do that? They crawled up their victims’ bodies, right under the skin, until they reached their head I think. Or did they? Thrilling. All the time I was thinking about putting my arm around you, but I didn’t dare. I still remember that. Not much more, though. You were sitting next to me. Don’t stop writing. You mustn’t stop writing. It’s probably already around half past twelve but... I can’t remember my nervousness, my feelings. I ran away from Pauline and Jonas and said: Let’s go this way. ¡Vamos por aquí! Acá. Here. They won’t come back looking for us. I wanted to be alone with Conchita. Alone with her. We ran into this narrow alley and came to a halt in front of a wall. We would’ve almost run against it. Shit. Back again. We can’t go on here. Fuck
There are too many pictures.
Then we didn’t walk along the main drag, but a little further up, near the park, which I didn’t see though, on that evening. I walked along the pavement with Conchita. I don’t know why, but I told her that I liked her. Just like that.
I like you.
Me gustas. I fancy you. No, that’s not it. I like you. I can’t even translate it properly. Put it into words
Me gustas.
I didn’t know what to feel. She was great. I wanted to kiss her, hold her hand, feel her skin sleep with her. Her breasts. Her thighs. Her thick calves. Her pubic hair went right up to the top. She didn’t shave down there.
funny
In the end we did meet Tobias and Bettina again. A bit further down the road. I’d been expecting that and had told her not to walk along the main road. But in the end, we did it all the same. And suddenly, behind the petrol station, in front of those tiny granite houses, which looked like witch houses, Pauline came walking up to us. I couldn’t help grinning. You don’t have to worry about us. We won’t get lost. Still, it’s nice, you being so caring. Mummy. I was sure Jonas would understand, but I didn’t want Pauline to get cross with me. She was nice and I was afraid of losing her as a friend. I was afraid
the way I took Conchita to the beach for the first time. It was already getting dark. We talked about actors, walking along the path behind the dunes.
"They don’t make a good couple, those two."
she laughed, getting
all worked up about nothing, then laughed again
And then, I don’t remember where it was exactly, I took her hand
No idea why. It just happened. She didn’t say anything
And then, I don’t remember where it was exactly, I took her hand
No idea why. It just happened. She didn’t say anything
that was so
I can’t even describe it,
the way I took her hand
|
that feeling. The
warm feeling of her soft hand in mine
She was wearing this thick, beige winter jacket. What she had on under it, I don't know. We walked down the dunes. The beach seemed endless, the waves. We walked on and on, into the darkness. There were hardly any lights at all. Almost eerie. Still, we went on, further and further,
I held her hand
until we came to this bunker, already half hidden in the sand. She didn’t want to go on. I wanted to go even further. With her next to me. Walk on and on. Fuck it. Her hand was slowly getting cold.
until we came to this bunker, already half hidden in the sand. She didn’t want to go on. I wanted to go even further. With her next to me. Walk on and on. Fuck it. Her hand was slowly getting cold.
Suddenly she said: What’s that over there?
I heard nothing, listened even harder, but there was only the roar of the waves.
There! Now I could hear it too. Is that a seal?
Really?
A seal.
