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Verlass die Stadt - pp 83-84
Und sie muss mit der Hochschaubahn fahren, was ihrem Magen einigermaßen mitnimmt. Und sie muss mit der Geisterbahn fahren, wo sie die Augen zumacht; mit Angst und Schrecken hat das wenig zu tun. Sie muss auch noch einem Mann aus Plastik ins Gesicht hauen, weil Max und Peter das lustig finden; sehr fest kann sie heute nicht zuschlagen.
Anschließend wird sie weitergeschleppt: Zum Riesenrad (das war uns früher immer zu teuer, weißt du noch?), und es ist tatsächlich das erste Mal, dass sie Riesenrad fährt, aber sie sieht gar nicht aus den Fenstern. Ihr ist dieses Wien da unten egal. Die Luft in der Kabine ist stickig, und ihr Kopf ist ganz heiß, ihr wird schwindlig und sie muss sich setzen.
Willst du noch Tagada fahren? Oder lieber gleich ins Schutzhaus?
Endlich darf Gudrun im Schatten sitzen, sie ist sehr erleichtert, es so gut überstanden zu haben. Max bestellt ihr ein großes Bier, von dem sie ein paar tapfere Schlucke trinkt.
Nachdem sie noch eine Rindssuppe gegessen hat, ist sie zwar immer noch schwach, aber schon wieder Gudrun genug, und darum fragt sie schließlich doch, während Laura auf dem Klo ist:
Seid mir nicht böse, es ist lieb von euch, aber warum?
Warum was?
Warum ladet ihr mich in den Prater ein?
Weil du den Prater liebst!
Da müsst ihr mich verwechseln.
Du hast Recht, sagt Peter, nachdem es eine Zeitlang sehr still war un Max sein Bier in einem Zug ausgetrunken hat.
Anschließend wird sie weitergeschleppt: Zum Riesenrad (das war uns früher immer zu teuer, weißt du noch?), und es ist tatsächlich das erste Mal, dass sie Riesenrad fährt, aber sie sieht gar nicht aus den Fenstern. Ihr ist dieses Wien da unten egal. Die Luft in der Kabine ist stickig, und ihr Kopf ist ganz heiß, ihr wird schwindlig und sie muss sich setzen.
Willst du noch Tagada fahren? Oder lieber gleich ins Schutzhaus?
Endlich darf Gudrun im Schatten sitzen, sie ist sehr erleichtert, es so gut überstanden zu haben. Max bestellt ihr ein großes Bier, von dem sie ein paar tapfere Schlucke trinkt.
Nachdem sie noch eine Rindssuppe gegessen hat, ist sie zwar immer noch schwach, aber schon wieder Gudrun genug, und darum fragt sie schließlich doch, während Laura auf dem Klo ist:
Seid mir nicht böse, es ist lieb von euch, aber warum?
Warum was?
Warum ladet ihr mich in den Prater ein?
Weil du den Prater liebst!
Da müsst ihr mich verwechseln.
Du hast Recht, sagt Peter, nachdem es eine Zeitlang sehr still war un Max sein Bier in einem Zug ausgetrunken hat.
Near fragment in time
Das Display war mit Asche und Holzstaub bedeckt. Es zeigte den Wiener Türkenschanzpark im Frühling letzten Jahres, die Zweige der Bäume waren mit winzigen weißen und rosa Blüten überzogen.
pp 51 from Satus Katze by
Near fragment in space
We went then to the roundabouts. He chose to ride not on a dappled horse - I had noticed already his dislike of horses -but on a swan. He enjoyed it, but he didn't want to go round again. It was an experience complete in itself.
Then came the Wurschtlmann. He's so famous the Prater is named for him and you can see why. A hideous rubber man with a red nose who, for a few kreutzer one can thump and pound and wallop to one's heart's content, knowing that he will right himself undamaged and come up for more. Give him a name - that of your mean-minded boss, your bullying commanding officer - and you can punch him insensible and walk away, purged.
'Would you like to have a go, Sigismund?'
Even before he shook his head I saw him instinctively shield his hands, hiding them behind his back - and that was the first time I remembered the concert.
In the end, though, the Prater is about the ferris wheel whose fame has spread throughout the Empire. It towers over everything else, its carriages take you a hundred metres into the sky. To be up there and look down on the city is to ride with the gods.
So I asked him: 'What about the giant wheel? Would you like to go on it ?'
His hand tightened in mine. A tremor passed over his face. She had not been frightened even at six years old, but the boy was scared.
'The view is very beautiful from the top. You can see all Vienna.'
He stood still in the middle of the path. He tilted his head and gave a small sniff.
'I want very much to be brave,' he said in his low, cracked voice. 'I very much want it.'
And suddenly it all dissolved - my long antagonism, my restraint, the resentment that I felt at being asked for what belonged only to my daughter. I saw him sitting beside his dead mother in the Polish forest, waiting for her to wake … Saw him wobbling on the Encyclopedia of Art, playing and playing because he could no longer talk. I remembered the silent patience with which he'd endured his uncle's bullying, saw the graze on his forehead of which he'd said no word.
And I knelt beside him and took him in my arms.
'You are brave, Sigi. You're very brave, my darling,' I said - and kissed him.
So now I can tell you this. They are entirely exact descriptions of what happens, those ones in the fairy tales which tell you what occurs when you kiss an ugly frog, a hairy beast, with proper love.Sigi didn't kiss me back or cling to me. He just straightened his shoulders and then in a calm, almost matter-of-fact voice, he said: 'Now we will go up,' - and then led me to the brightly painted carriages swaying high above our heads.
pp 177-178 from Madensky Square by
Then came the Wurschtlmann. He's so famous the Prater is named for him and you can see why. A hideous rubber man with a red nose who, for a few kreutzer one can thump and pound and wallop to one's heart's content, knowing that he will right himself undamaged and come up for more. Give him a name - that of your mean-minded boss, your bullying commanding officer - and you can punch him insensible and walk away, purged.
'Would you like to have a go, Sigismund?'
Even before he shook his head I saw him instinctively shield his hands, hiding them behind his back - and that was the first time I remembered the concert.
In the end, though, the Prater is about the ferris wheel whose fame has spread throughout the Empire. It towers over everything else, its carriages take you a hundred metres into the sky. To be up there and look down on the city is to ride with the gods.
So I asked him: 'What about the giant wheel? Would you like to go on it ?'
His hand tightened in mine. A tremor passed over his face. She had not been frightened even at six years old, but the boy was scared.
'The view is very beautiful from the top. You can see all Vienna.'
He stood still in the middle of the path. He tilted his head and gave a small sniff.
'I want very much to be brave,' he said in his low, cracked voice. 'I very much want it.'
And suddenly it all dissolved - my long antagonism, my restraint, the resentment that I felt at being asked for what belonged only to my daughter. I saw him sitting beside his dead mother in the Polish forest, waiting for her to wake … Saw him wobbling on the Encyclopedia of Art, playing and playing because he could no longer talk. I remembered the silent patience with which he'd endured his uncle's bullying, saw the graze on his forehead of which he'd said no word.
And I knelt beside him and took him in my arms.
'You are brave, Sigi. You're very brave, my darling,' I said - and kissed him.
So now I can tell you this. They are entirely exact descriptions of what happens, those ones in the fairy tales which tell you what occurs when you kiss an ugly frog, a hairy beast, with proper love.Sigi didn't kiss me back or cling to me. He just straightened his shoulders and then in a calm, almost matter-of-fact voice, he said: 'Now we will go up,' - and then led me to the brightly painted carriages swaying high above our heads.