Ruth Holzer

Niklasstrasse 36

Arise from the sofa of dreams. Onto the sill. Out of the window. To throw himself out of the window was what he wanted, to go flying or falling five stories, coming to land on the pavement in front of the elaborate portal or in the pool of misted light under the streetlamp. The river, the bridge, the toll-taker, unchanging, his last view.

The observer with his longing for solitude and panic at marriage. His longing for marriage and panic at solitude.

no children of his own up in smoke

The elusive embrace, desireless and comprehending, was what he wanted. One that that would release him in the end without blame. His mind jumping between fear and indifference.

the collapse of empire Dear Max burn everything