A white glove brings on homesickness and fatigue. And eventually, you move on.
The car is handed over again and again. We place the key inside a white glove, and the car is parked for us. We could have done that on our own, we think, and feel annoyed.For the first time the air is humid. I cannot think clearly and try going for a walk. I have been terribly homesick since the first week of the trip. I call Leipzig often, which helps.
Then we read in a library. By now I could recite Louise’s texts with my eyes closed. We could already ask the audience’s questions ourselves. And our answers are always the same now. We need to change that, we tell each other.
Later we go to a bar. There is no beer foam. Someone shows us pistols and assault rifles on a phone. I am impressed and frightened at the same time.
The days suddenly pass more quickly. Maybe I am too tired from the journey to notice them. I sleep badly and wake badly too. Four elevators move like two. We wait in the forecourt. The white glove hands us the key.
We drive.
The views expressed in this text are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views or positions of the Goethe-Institut.