In the meantime the need for action has become very urgent, but the last time someone else acted, who discovered her in her car at a crossroads, stopped and gutted her without even giving her local anaesthetic. Everything was taken out of her hands. Who could suspect it. We need something in writing. So sooner or later we go to the notary. The people who now want to act, no matter how and with what, they get first choice, and they choose someone they like. He tells the truth, is decent, sporty, clean and energetic and stands out from someone whom they just don't like so much, although he, too, is decent, sporty, clean, and energetic. But unfortunately one can't tell by looking at him. Fortunately only someone is chosen about whom you can tell everything by looking, above all, that he is steady on his feet, but he stands or sits even more steadily in his Porsche. The decent and able. The hard-working, too. What is their secret? I don't know, otherwise I would pass it on. Perhaps we want to be deceived, because we are constantly deceiving everyone, that is, if we get the opportunity. This woman for example has had herself sterilized, which she candidly confesses, although now she couldn't have any children anyway. She doesn't want children and has never wanted them, since she herself is a child and wants to be like a child for the man. Another child would always only have got in the way. The other, Gabi, herself hardly more than a child, also did nothing but get in the way. Which is the proof. Of what? For whom? No matter who it is, at the moment one sets the life and the soul of the party on him, and already he's off to the carnival at Villach or looks at it on TV and feels altogether at home in this country. Others live in the lake, no, you can't say that Mme. Author, if someone is sleeping in a lake that doesn't at all mean that they're living there. Didn't you see the rubber dinghy? It lives in an attic room with photos on the walls, baby animals and pictures of models, both of them public and private projects, it just depends who is making use of them and what he is exploiting them for. Exploitation is the main thing, in order to feel good oneself, simply fantastic. Every glittering snowflake tumbling down insensibly would say that of itself, while it's still in the air, it's looking forward to the soft landing, and then it's already melted. Not even a hot stone was needed.
The crucial detail, which no one saw, or everyone who paid no particular attention to it, was a car, which in the cold nights of the previous winter, before it went off in the direction of springalingaling, was parked nearly every morning very close to the bus stop. There was a high degree of probability that waiting at the wheel was the man who for more than six months secretly drove Gabi to work in the county town, and occasionally, when his own working hours permitted, also drove her back again. It's certain at least that more than half of the girl's journeys to work on this relatively short stretch were made with this unknown man, we won't even start on the other journeys, at night, mad with delight, otherwise we would sink to the ground at the thought of all the things these two got up to together and how they did it. Gabi must have deceived her mother and her boyfriend. Others she couldn't deceive, but they never said anything about it. No one knew about it, let's stick to the official version. Once in this sequence-if we stepped closer, then we would see more-Gabi's breath completely stopped coming, when perhaps she had been too much of a burden to the man, who after all only wanted to spoil her. That's not right. One does need a bit of it! It was achieved through gentle pressure, because Gabi, spoiled by tenderness, became pretty naughty. The tongue, the larynx, the carotid arteries, the lungs have been trained for public appearances. If one denies it to them, because one wants to leave a person entirely alone with their breath, then these two become feeble in their ambition to maintain the functioning of the body. They mock the rest of the body, call out to it: Without us you are nothing and can do nothing. You can try if you like, you are at liberty to do that, but you will fall down, dear body, and rising up will be possible only with great difficulty, or, if you are God, who rises again, then that will become evident, at latest, at the moment when the women roll away a stone and begin to weep and wail. But if you are God, then you don't need us anyway. The oxygen has been diverted from the brain, the brain surfaces have dried up, the environmental conditions in the brain biotope have been drastically altered. Anyone who believes species-rich life partnerships of thinking and thought would be more stable is right in principle, but not always. A maximization of the number of thoughts should not absolutely be an aspiration in a project like this, in case you're wondering why so few ideas are to be found here, in this place. Then you just have to search! Apart from that it is not absolutely necessary that there are many. More important is: which, and also important is the analysis of my thoughts with respect to the parts they play in my brain, because my brain gets so easily bored and longs to instigate something new. And then there would still remain to be decided which strategies, with respect to what I shall stuff into my brainbox, would have to be represented, so that they then represent me and that I in turn can here decently represent and act as counsel for people living or once living. The more diverse the TV films I empty into my upper story, the greater the number of species of organisms I will then later be able to harvest from my tables and benches. I consume dead stuff and make life out of it. I then have it well prepared. One should also perhaps read the newspapers. Thanks, I'm pleased to do it, it's always worthwhile. Here, e.g., I've copied out many pages, but I haven't joined them together yet. I'm always astonished how the natural things of life are revealed to me, but then I immediately slam the door shut again. It's a paper chase after facts, just you start, you won't, however, find anything anymore, because I will have dismembered the bodies, and then I've poured the highly effective Andy Pandy drain cleaner, a British product, unfortunately no longer obtainable nowadays, on top. Now they're gone, like the two fried eggs earlier on. Oh no, now I've dropped the vague hints of one of Gabi's girlfriends, who one or two days ago looked thoughtfully up to the sky (she could never look as pretty as Gabi, that's why she's sprayed something around her, from a L'Oreal box, so that she can't be seen so clearly), and she said something nasty, which, e.g., would not turn up in a story of the Virgin Mary. Now that the road is clear, this girl is groping around in her friend's life, hesitating as to what she can pick out of it, to make better use of it, a nice calm faithful husband, children, a home of their own, holiday, and then she drops a vague hint, pointing in a direction which is still hidden from our eyes. We see nothing. This hint will only be returned to later, when suddenly others will also point to it, like the sun, which shines back in the evening before it finally lowers itself to the other half of the globe, where the soles of people's feet are already burning and they at last want the sun above their heads.