The boring way between two points is a straight line.

Berlin faces (I)

The right jacket pocket is after, the thin beige fabric, the skirt is too weak for the grain bottle, into which he has. Now he strumpelt by the slippery snow Schivelbeiner the road. Schrumpelnasig, warzenwangig. On shockingly old. Lonely curls hanging slack rough under his woolen cap. Geglänzt have probably been a long time. He clasps his hands with rotgefrorenen cardboard cup, the coffee steams. The only heat for him on that icy penultimate evening of the year. The soles of his shoes dissolve. His facial skin is dry and zerkerbt as Landschollen after months of drought. "Down, down, down with the government!" , Muhammad said. "Down, down, down with the capital!"

About him flickers the broken neon sign of Windelservices. "Workshops, accessories. Everything around the winding, "is blurry letters to be read. His left foot remains in a black Eisma Czechoslovakia hang lumps. He plunges. The coffee cup flies in the snow. A cozy puddle melts the hole. "Damn hoe. Snow shit! "He curses as he can hardly sit up. Again and again he slips. I durchwühle my wallet. Finally succeed him but to stand firm. I am committed to him, consider him a coin. "Here. For a new coffee. " Surprise twinkles in his eyes. One moment he looks only. Then follows the most marvelous, zahnarme smile of the year. "Thank you," he growls disconcerts. Again, "Thank you! What did I deserve this? " "Only in this way." "Enter at eight. The snow here is scheißglatt. " About me on the steel tracks the stop Schönhauser Allee, which rushes the subway, I wanted to catch. Who's cares? Another will come. Soon.

Somewhere between crack toothpick yellowed teeth. And then there was this green face, from which a schauderndes, sour smile herunterfloss like vinegar.

Wash and dry

"It's strange," said Luci, curved her chin with his thumb and wrapped a two curls on her finger. "In the past, my boots were also in the deepest snow waterproof and snug warm. Kilometers wide, I could so through ice cold poles, nothing had my feet feel chilly. But apparently I have a small hole in the sole cut, as I two weeks ago at the cathedral at night in broken glass underfoot bin. Now I can already look for a quarter-hour hike through snow wring my socks, and after 10 minutes my boots from the inside hair. "

"You föhnst your boots from the inside?" Ada curled the forehead and searching her handbag for a cigarette lighter.

"What else can I do? My boots to get moldy? Moisture is in the long term for leather fatal. It is not long ago, because I have the wardrobe tidy my grandmother and my old leather backpack found again, and I years ago when it had forgotten. Under the wardrobe is the cold, damp cellar. He stands at the poorly insulated outer wall, and the room itself was rarely well heated. It may be only a good year location, but he was completely gets moldy, grauweißhaarigen excessive lint like a schmuddeliger invented. "

"No tasty idea," mumbled Ada, which is just a cigarette between his lips had pushed, with the newly found Lighter promptly inflamed. Their lips kerbten in, silvery smoke danced to the ceiling.

"Quite the opposite of his."

"But mold is generally not very tasty idea. Especially me alone already thinking about the weißfaulige creep back to Steven recalls. "Adas pressed her lips together. Their turned pale skin, the mouth angle downward arc. They drew fierce in their cigarette. A few flakes of ash landed on her black velvet pants, were swept aside nimble.

"Steven?"

"The Feinrippunterbuxeninformatiker, with whom I Kandinsky in the street for."

"You have times in a WG usual?"

"For years, before Steven me and for all times by the desire to residential communities cured."

"I remember only vaguely."

"You Happy. There was no more vivid than half his refrigerator, all too often populated and the same angegessene yogurt a three-quarter of the rear corner before the long fibers soon enough that he would have by itself herausklettern, once the door is opened. "

"Ürgs."

Suddenly up at Adas facial features before schmunzelndem pleasure, laughter and angular escaped between their teeth shining through.

"The old rascal has also constantly on my expensive Washes Out and shower gels. Whenever I have the luxury of giving my body with something really good to maintain, Dior, Chanel, it was - poof! - Empty. Although faults - just emptied all my shower gel bottles alarmingly fast. I have always wondered how much soap he rightly came. All care products, flushing, shower gel forth all belonged to me, not him. If just shower gel shortage at the man, I am the last, the bleats, if you look briefly served elsewhere. But I have no desire that the cleanliness of others at my expense. Have not at the expense of my dearly acquired care products. Eventually, I pointed him once. "

"I would also."

"He looked at me just as stoic cold cardboard and filled with indignation at what me because cloud him to insinuate something. He was not a thief, and certainly not Duschgelschuft. "

"But the rapid consumption of my deliriously Waschemulsionen, shampoos and shower gels continued."

"And what have you done?"

"Eventually, as my Chanel-shower was empty, I have it with Remoulade refilled. Two days later, suddenly, a bottle of shampoo for oily hair on Duschbeckenrand. "

Ada laughed again, small Rauchwölkchen raced from her nose, she drew one last time at her cigarette, and crushed them in the ashtray.

A posteriori

And he still said: "No, but I have enough beer. No Bacardi. Have nothing to do with Fanta. The evil ends. " And then he was invited but punchy. And hardly Fanta in almost pure rum. Could you with a magnifying glass looking for partners who Limoanteile. Harter substance, which I tell Dir And not just a glass, at least three. And Sect And then still beer. And not just one. Because the part is so, and is also New Year's Eve. No Pardon. And his self-squatting precaution in a rescue capsule, moved to a higher Warft back, fled before the flood and looked at it from slightly elevated body from outside. Even he was only half Zerschlürftes awareness. A good humored Dämmer, liquid ignorance watered him, and his awareness of liquefied be triggered on in clear water. He still knows everything, but he was not quite there. Dozens nice faces, the potential enormous nice conversations and everything but a little schalou, because you know, you see in the fog rarely clear. The next morning, when the fog has been cleared, he says, the only right. And what all of it probably might have thought. So, have never met, and then, but even such a thing. Donnerknispel. And do not properly noticed, was midnight. More than strange. And then sometime the night went. And thought, "Hey, you be grandiose sense of orientation, but go instead of the familiar roadside dadrüben long time, it should also work." And has that worked, but until more than an hour later. In between Dean shuffling between überschneiten glistening lakes in the Tiergarten, selbstverlorenes eggs on the streets of 17th June. And in between the snow but more like peanut butter ice-cold. Bräunliches Gematsche. Angetaut. And, as with almost Karnickelködeln inside, the Streusplitt so you do not slip. The shoes gnash at every step. Odyssey. Almost winkelscher general sense. Huch, very empty in the victory column. And the S-Bahn station Bellevue. But only pure and out again. Now S-Bahn-Fahren not just because you never know. In sonem condition. Dogged Weiterstapfen. Without a plan, but with fervor. And then, but completely and without a city plan in the unfamiliar city back. Eventually hooked awareness again climbed from its encapsulation, the flood pulled back. A crowd had fun, a little sore muscles in the thighs and kinsternde idea that an illustrious mountain enormously sympathsicher people it would have to be sober to know. The opportunity will come. Does he, as he blushed slightly butter on the multi-grain bread slice smears. Almost a touch of Selbstfremdeln durchschwummert him. Then he stirs klackernd with the spoon through the steaming coffee in Steingutbecher and thinks: "After all had fun."

Mooi Fiert!

Snow whistles. But he is soaked masses on the roofs of the city. Where else to sit sparrows. And the whistle again. Currently whistles also virtually nothing from the rooftops, but the condensed rumors that the year will soon take his hat and dashes in the past. Hit all fun and sturzfrei into next year! Let champagne corks pop, spared from Kapuzenpullikapuzen D-Böllern and let you go good!

Lying hope

The flame of snow in Teekerze glanzlackierten porcelain angel flickered briefly. Then a thin soot quoll flag from the soul air holes in the back of the angel doll, which until just flickering flame was extinguished.

Still stollenvoll sat on the eve Wiebrand and Helga on Christmas breakfast table. Wiebrand tried with fire and zeal dull knife to the hard egg heads, Helga climbed from the chair behind the massive oak desk out to other aufzubrühen coffee.

To date breakfast in a little sag to be stretched Helga. My sweater slipped slightly and gave up for a few seconds to look at their rosy belly. Suddenly a joyful grin curved Wiebrands comfortably curved mouth.

"Well? Grad Have you considered how chic it looks when a small brilliant in my navel sparkle would treasure? "Helga ask coquettishly.

"Not quite. I have a look at your pocket and dared about why because a garbage bag herausbaumelt band. "

Second fragmented hopeful romance in a flash as the egg shell, the Wiebrands blunt knife had finally penetrated.