I stare at the receiver, nothing I´d like to say I had said - as usual, and never will I able to talk about the real important things on telefon. Nearly two hours, you can talk a lot in this time but you can conceal even more. You made jokes about the desaster on a firm meeting two days before, you cannot say that you nearly wanted to break out completely, that crazyness had possessed you for the rest of the day. The restless walks through the streets, sitting at the shore of the little lake you´d dreamt of death and making an end at last. No, that´s nothing to speak about. And your selfhate? Sitting in the café, drinking tea, seing all the people aorund you and feeling completely isolated, from others, from life in general? No theme for a weekend-talk. Your doubts concerning your work? What you would be able to do? There´s nothing what you really like to do, everything a mess, a burden a string around your neck, holding you short like a barking dog longing for freedom. No, mother, no talk to hassle you, I´ve made enough troubles and sorrows all the years, I hate me for it. Yes, it´s a shame to disturb everyone I love with my difficulties. It would be easier - perhaps - if I´d be able to express all this to someone, but it would kill my little bit of selfrespect completely.

The man in the boutique with the extravagante and expensive clothes, leaning against a wall, the hands behind his back looking at the salesman helping a man choosing a new dress. Tension, his hands squeezed together in pain, his breast like under some tons of weight, his head flopping around in uncontrollable thoughts. Why always only the role of a spectator, a foreign visitor nobody knows, nobody wants to know, no matter where he was or with whom. He was the spectator, the listener, passive, not in touch with reality, separated. How he longed for this person over there, but no word came from his lips, he stood and in the midst of his pains he hurried away, an escape into the even greater pains of selfhate and disgust.

- oh hello Daniel, how are you?
- fine, fine
- you have changed the job I heard?
- yes, since two weeks
- and how is it?
- well I´m still at the beginning but it´s ok

Always these conversations about nothing. I want to die, flying away forever, give me a revolver and I cancel my spectatorjob on earth, I´ve seen enough, I want to come home. Thinking about killing myself in different ways and that I´ll become crazy soon I take the receiver, weekend-call at home.