St. Moritz

Posted: 2015-01-26 in DDR

Dagmar woke up one morning, tired. Tired of life as she knew it. Tired of the past and present, tired of the promise of the apparent future looming.

Dagmar cared about people and their plight (in this screwed-up world) but she was also tired of people. Dagmar was tired of conversation (which was invariably banal); she was tired of hearing about others and their families, their pets, their pasts.

Dagmar also did not want to discus herself. She was tired of explaining herself to others. Really, she believed, she had nothing left to explain, nothing left to justify – she was as she was, she didn’t want to remember the reasons why, let alone talk about them with other people.

Dagmar also did not want to discuss the weather. As usual it was shitty – it was as it was (quite contrary to what the highly skilled scientists who masquerade as meteorologists and forecasters predicted, yet again).

Dagmar woke up and decided that she liked silence (instantaneously comparing it to memories of being disturbed in bed by shrill, horrible, head-splitting, spring-time bird-song). Ah, yes, golden silence: so much better than birds, so much better than bird-brained people.

 

“Oh, you’re the new exchange student from Switzerland!”

Quietly sitting, thinking, she looked up. The teacher led her forward, then regaled her with a tale of a former Swiss student, younger, a stupid boy named Marc, who had brought a can of beer to school, apparently given to him by his flaky mother who thought it was appropriate nourishment for a pre-pubescent lad, in this far-flung land. To be Swiss is this?

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