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Boboville - pp 147
Jellers Laden lag auf einer Wasserader, wie alle Läden in Boboville, mit der gewissen Ausnahme des Santo Spirito, aber das war kein Laden, sondern eine Disco für Leute, die Elektromusik verabscheuten und das Tanzen hassten. Jellers Laden erinnerte an die Wohnzimmer der Camusleser. An den Wänden zogen sich Regale bis zur Decke, darin stand der Literaturkanon, gelesen, aber vergessen, er stand da und staubte, für den Fall, dass jemand nach Proust fragten sollte oder nach Kafka, Platonow oder Orwell. In der Mitte des Raums, mitten im Nebel, der aus dem feuchten Keller unter dem Jellerladen stieg, dauerte ein abendmahllanger Tisch, auf dem war der Pop aufgestellt, mit den Buchrücken nach oben. Noam Chomsky, Susan Sontag, die postmarxistische Trauerliteratur, die Bestsellerei, und dann die Bücher für Leute, denen man Bücher schenkt und nicht Liebe und schließlich die Hauptwerke der Bobovillains, alle langen Nasen lang krochen sie vorbei, um die Höhe ihres Stapels zu notieren.
Near fragment in time
Paul Wagner und Georg Sina saßen in der Konditorei am Fleischmarkt und jeder hing seinen Gedanken nach. Von der Ruprechtskirche aus waren sie über den Schwedenplatz schweigend hierher marschiert.
pp 163 from Ewig by ,
Near fragment in space
I have just made a complete fool of myself. I went to see Alice to tell her about Herr Huber's visit and on the way back I thought I saw across the width of the Kärntner Ring a figure that I recognized.
Yes, I was sure that I knew that soldier in the uniform of the Bohemian Dragoons with his slow gait and clumsy boots. I even thought I could smell across the heads of the fashionable crowd who promenaded there, the whiff of the raw onions that nothing can prevent Corporal Hatschek from chewing when he is off duty. And my heart raced, excitement coursed through me - and I lifted my skirts ready to hurry across the road.
But the Ringstrasse is wide, the hansom cabs are never in a hurry. By the time I'd reached the other side there was no sign of him.
I'd imagined him then. Conjured him up out of my deepest need. It's not the first time that I've run across the road like a homesick child towards this onion-chewing corporal and found he was a mirage. Well, so be it. There is only one cure for what ails me, and thank heaven I have it in abundance. Work.
pp 41 from Madensky Square by
Yes, I was sure that I knew that soldier in the uniform of the Bohemian Dragoons with his slow gait and clumsy boots. I even thought I could smell across the heads of the fashionable crowd who promenaded there, the whiff of the raw onions that nothing can prevent Corporal Hatschek from chewing when he is off duty. And my heart raced, excitement coursed through me - and I lifted my skirts ready to hurry across the road.
But the Ringstrasse is wide, the hansom cabs are never in a hurry. By the time I'd reached the other side there was no sign of him.
I'd imagined him then. Conjured him up out of my deepest need. It's not the first time that I've run across the road like a homesick child towards this onion-chewing corporal and found he was a mirage. Well, so be it. There is only one cure for what ails me, and thank heaven I have it in abundance. Work.