Lifelessness Is Only A Disguise Behind Which

In Our Town There Was A Gestapo Officer Who Loved To Play Chess. After The Occupation Began, He Found Out That My Father Was The Chess Master Of The Region, And So He Had Him To His House Every Night.

There Are Things Than Cannot Ever Occur With Any Precision. They Are Too Big And Too Magnificent To Be Contained In Mere Facts. They Are Merely Trying To Occur, They Are Checking Whether The Ground Of Reality Can Carry Them. And They Quickly Withdraw, Fearing To Loose Their Integrity In The Frailty Of Realization.

...."the Sound Of A Barrel Organ Rising From The Deepest Golden Vein Of The Day; Two Or Three Bars Of A Chorus, Played On A Distant Piano Over And Over Again, Melting In The Sun On The White Pavement, Lost In The Fire Of High Noon.

Could It Be That Time Is Too Narrow For All Events? Could It Happen That All The Seats Within Time Might Have Been Sold? Worried, We Run Along The Train Of Events, Preparing Ourselves For The Journey.

Now The Windows, Blinded By The Glare Of The Empty Square, Had Fallen Asleep. The Balconies Declared Their Emptiness To Heaven; The Open Doorways Smelt Of Coolness And Wine.