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• (EN) Excerpt from “Walter or You jerk you didn’t call me up” […] Outside, it had started raining. Or maybe it had been raining for some time and I hadn’t noticed. Beyond the glass, the city lay blurred and real, while beside me a woman stood in another year at another window, perhaps waiting, or just smoking. Walter came to stand beside me. WALTER: Well? I covered the microphone with my hand. ME: Well what? WALTER: Is everything all right now? ME: Of course not. He nodded, as though that came as a relief. On the other end of the line, Jerk said my name. For a moment, the window held all our reflections – Walter, you, and me. Not Jerk, though I could hear his voice. I pressed my hand to the glass. It was cold. JERK: Can you hear me? ME: Yes. JERK: What are you doing? I looked at our reflections, at the pictures behind us and the dark city beyond – or the other way round. ME: I’m trying to figure out who’s looking at whom. JERK: What? I thought of Althoff. “You’ll never understand this.” And then: “How wonderful it would be if you could.” ME: Whether it’s possible to love someone without understanding them. A pause. I looked at Walter. He looked back. JERK: Well? ME: I don’t know.
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  Lili Dujourie, Sonnet

  Tot 17 okt 2026

  
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• (EN) Excerpt from “Walter or You jerk you didn’t call me up” […] Outside, it had started raining. Or maybe it had been raining for some time and I hadn’t noticed. Beyond the glass, the city lay blurred and real, while beside me a woman stood in another year at another window, perhaps waiting, or just smoking. Walter came to stand beside me. WALTER: Well? I covered the microphone with my hand. ME: Well what? WALTER: Is everything all right now? ME: Of course not. He nodded, as though that came as a relief. On the other end of the line, Jerk said my name. For a moment, the window held all our reflections – Walter, you, and me. Not Jerk, though I could hear his voice. I pressed my hand to the glass. It was cold. JERK: Can you hear me? ME: Yes. JERK: What are you doing? I looked at our reflections, at the pictures behind us and the dark city beyond – or the other way round. ME: I’m trying to figure out who’s looking at whom. JERK: What? I thought of Althoff. “You’ll never understand this.” And then: “How wonderful it would be if you could.” ME: Whether it’s possible to love someone without understanding them. A pause. I looked at Walter. He looked back. JERK: Well? ME: I don’t know.
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  Silke Otto Knapp, Stage (YSL, spring/summer 1988; Braque collection; doves, guitars)

  Tot 17 okt 2026

  
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