LIGHT, RELATIONS

Once, he remembers, it flashed through his mind that the fence posts looked like violin bows: the barbed wire strings stretched across them, and behind them the sky resounded. It was as if all external noise had ceased, and all he could see was this endless, billowing sky, just as it was now. (Death baroque.) When he looks out of the window, the same image greets him from the window of the apartment building, as if the clouds from that time were still passing by. In the next room, the older Czajka is getting ready. He is a circus performer, like his brother, and rents the maid’s room from them. The younger one has been throwing balls on the porch all morning, and now he is practicing with a trumpet over there. He will never work again, he is a free man now, he can stare out of the kitchen into the courtyard or the small square opposite all day long. And he can listen to the two Czajkas arguing and practicing. This elf plays the violin quite well, by the way.