the wooden table room smelled of perfume and cigarette
on the small, next to the stained glass of red wine was a white piece of paper
it was folded, as far as one could only
he was not wearing a label and was not otherwise described -
up to one.
each if I zuückdenke it, I can still hear the scrape of atomized fountain pen on that spring evening, which should decide on our future.
I leafed through my magazine, my body was very weak
3 days I ate nothing, but you could not see me anyway, I felt
observed everywhere, everywhere, everywhere, over all, on the ave with a
all you stood on, without a word to say to you
schlosst the old wooden door behind you
motionless I sat there, unaware that anything was lost
everyone goes, why am I here Nocht?
on the note was only one thing:
london after
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