But now swiftly to the other side, to the opposing party, who wants to be loved for her own sake. That's her hobby. What does she tell us, the lady, who plays the piano and is serious about it? This is what she says: My love, you can nail a mirror to the wall over there, if you like, in the middle of the furniture, which you will additionally choose with premeditation. But please don't go! You can nail the whole house to yourself, but please don't go! I would otherwise have to prepare myself to become lonely. My affection would have to change to disaffection, and it wouldn't like to do that. All my life savings are in this house, I accumulated them so that I can make myself comfortable one day, when I am no longer young. Now the time has come. I have personally and laboriously raised the house, first when breaking it in and then at the topping-out ceremony, hasn't it turned out well? What am I pleading for now? I'm pleading, don't go! Take the house, but you: stay! At least give me the address where the house will be put up, once you have taken it! Because I have one or more catastrophic relationships with one or more awful men behind me, and now I want to be unruly one last time, thank you, and sincerely beg you, don't go! Otherwise I've got nothing else left. You can also sell my dear porcelain dolls I've been collecting for years, some of them presents from my old piano teacher, I must call her again some time, but I don't feel like it, I only feel for you, so you can sell all the dear things if you like, because, as you've been saying for a long time, they only take up space, which afterwards you will make up with me. If only you stay here, by my side, you're surely not a man who's afraid of relationships? No, that won't be you, because in this magazine it says that it would express itself quite differently, and you never express yourself at all. You surely won't be the kind of man who admits to having made mistakes and talks about a shared future without there being one? No, that won't be you either. If you like, it's all right by me if you break through that inviting wall over there, it seems, just like me, to have virtually invited you to do so, it seems, like me, to be calling to you: I would like nothing more than to cave in, and if I survive that, I would like to marry you, and then I'll be so happy that on the other hand I could die. We lonely people also like to flee into seclusion, but we are then so happy when, like refugees, we are allowed to come out again, even if only to go to prison. You can smash a hole in the wall with the sledgehammer if you want, even if then the hole doesn't lead anywhere, do it do it, just to love me even more. You'll never understand me, but you must not forget me nevertheless, and you can knock down the wall over there right away as well, I don't mind, you don't even need to ask me if you want to do it, please do it. Knocked out by the effect on my poor wall, I'll sit there but not for long. Soon I would want to come again, like a child to the heavenly father, to whom all children are allowed to come first of all, so that he can give them his kingdom. And you are also very welcome to build a conservatory made of thermoglass onto the garden front, but then, however, one won't be able to get into the cellar anymore, because the steps would also have to be walled up. So you'll have to think that over and look at the plan once again, but instead you can break through a door at the rear, by which you'll be able to come straight into the house. You will, however, be unable to reach the ground floor from the cellar, because you have got rid of the proper door. Where on earth is the architect's plan, I can definitively prove to you that I'm right, only I can't find the plan now, what does it matter, who needs it, why do we have to go down to the cellar, and what do we need plans for, we're already fulfilling them before we have them. After all, we found each other without any plan. At a crossroads, quite naturally. Simple and natural.
Please don't go! Don't go! Something like that crossed my mind as soon as you arrived. I would otherwise have been dismissed too humiliatingly, if you had gone away. Without giving me the reason. Tell me why! I open my mouth to my few remaining women friends, and then, after long streams of tears, oh no, now some have got onto this leaf that fell from no tree, it is, rather, part of what was once tree, I shut up again. I open myself up in order to experience something, and then I close myself again. It's all a boundless realm, but not my realm, it is the realm of thunder and cries, of the roaring foam and of the clouds falling like atomic mushrooms, no: rising clouds beneath which the camouflaged lover can proceed resolutely against his enemy (likewise a lover, like him!) and claim to have been sent straight from heaven to his partner, with an incomplete address, however, and there's something not quite right about the partner either as things stand. But the missing part of the address was completed by the Santa Claus Post Office, why then is what I do and say not so well received? In short, this vast realm is the realm of converted and detached houses and apartments. So that people will at last be happy, they should now all rise simultaneously from their places to look for their very own way, and then they after all just go home, where they can do it with each other in peace and quiet or with somebody quite different or have to wait until someone calls up who would like to do it with them. Never mind. They'll always need a house for that, a house keeps its value. A body decays. There are many who are rankled that they don't yet own this or another home. Love and passion can bear simply everything, but they can't get along together.