ma chère, 1997

Love letters written on the wall
- received by me, written by me, read by me -
it's so wonderful. I departed from you, fell asleep whilst hitchhiking and, when I awoke, saw your face before my eyes.
You are in me, regardless of how much I travel. I can go as far away as I'd like, or rather have to, and still you're there, with me and in me.
How did you manage to entrench yourself in me?
Is it your hair, your eyes, your little laughter lines, which have embedded themselves in me?
E.A.Poe thought it was the teeth which, like a cathedral, harbour man's thoughts of his sweetheart; others wrote that the hairs are ingrowing memories, active and passive at the same time, sender and receiver.
I believe it is your oh so gorgeous laughter lines, they are such a source of joy, like you yourself!
They have rooted themselves so deeply in my heart that they could even wake me up.

It's so beautiful.
The world is so delicious.
I still have to laugh, when I think about how you were sitting behind the vegetable crate.
You...that it was you?!
That was you, through and through!
And it was so funny.
It's so wonderful that I can laugh when I think about you.
With the oil in your hair - black, and such a pallid, grinning little face.
Your voice so high.
The white light shining on you.
You are so deliciously, deliciously dopey.
Why do these words contradict one another so much...?
Actually, what I really wanted to say is that I am sooo happy with you.

Room 409
Catholic Academy in Berlin, 2001

Hotel Mövenpick Kassel, 2001