The Museum

So as not to be alone Otto went to the museum. He walked through the city in the snow. Walking over the empty fields leading to the main train station, he thought about the war. He thought about the war again walking through the main hall of the museum. The floor was grey stone and exactly level, which he found endlessly beautiful. The long wing attached to the main hall looked like it used to be a slaughter house. It smelled like a horse stall.

Mondays

So as not to be alone Otto went to the bar around the corner, the one that is actually around three corners, with the mauve walls. On Mondays there is a Belgian there cutting hair. The bartender is a woman called Eliot who is French but pronounces Eliot like in English. The last time Otto saw her she was growing her hair. The last time Otto saw her she was eating meat at the Spanish restaurant at the end of the block. Her lips were glistening from the fat. Actually, the walls aren't mauve but more like deep raspberry. That might also be wrong. In any case they aren't blue or green or black or yellow. It's probably not wrong that they are more like deep raspberry, even if they are not actually deep raspberry, if deep raspberry is even a color. It was Monday, and Otto washed his hair in case he decided to have it cut.

France

So as not to be alone Otto thought about the time he was in France. It was sunny, the food was good, and he was young. Being young, his body felt different. He didn't feel it as much as he does now. Sleep came without effort. Too many things came without effort. The things that came only with effort still come that way. Fortunately, Otto learned to enjoy effort, even if only because he had to. That's why Otto isn't in France anymore.

Hello

So as not to be alone Otto decided to call his friend Martin, the one who is always wearing the dark blue shirt. Not feeling much like talking, however, he decided to send him a text message instead. "Dear Martin," Otto wrote. Dissatisfied, he deleted "Dear" and deleted "Martin" in the process. He wrote, "Hello," and then stared at the blinking line where the next letter was to appear. Otto thought, blink - blink - blink. Blink - blink - blink - blink - blink. He began to worry that the screen would go blank from prolonged inactivity, like the great yawn of a visitor signaling it was time to leave. To avoid despair, Otto just sent the message as it was and lay down to wonder whether he would receive a response.

out on the street

So as not to be alone, Otto went out onto the street where there were many people all the time. Sure enough, the street was full of people now as well. Otto didn't know any of them, at least of the ones he saw. Certainly there were some he didn't see but knew. But they just as well could not have been there at all. In fact, they weren't. Somewhere there were always people unseen but known. That seemed just then to be less troubling than the fact that those he could see he didn't know. The distance separating Otto from those he knew was certainly greater than that separating him from those all around him but didn't know. And maybe it was precisely this relative proximity that led Otto to believe he would be less lonely less alone. Who knows.

Hunger

When I asked her whether she was hungry yet, she said because she had just eaten something sweet. When I asked her what it was, she said it was something with something sweet in it. I looked at her, and she said it was like a bread with something sweet inside that was a kind of bean. She said because her English is not so good, I knew that. When I asked her when she would be hungry again, she said why are you always asking me about food. I said I'm not asking her about food, I'm asking about eating. She said what's the difference. I said one is a noun the other is a verb, one is a thing the other is an action. She looked at me as if my face became funny but in a way one could not laugh about. Actually, I said, I was asking about hunger, which is more different than food than eating is. She looked at me again. I said in Africa people are hungry but have no food and cannot eat. She said we're not in Africa. I said that was just an example. She said where she came from eating and food and hunger were all the same, they were all related. Everything is related but not the same, I said. Are you the same as your sister, I asked. No! That's different, she said. See, I said, it's different. She shook her head and went back to her work. It was then that my hunger began to frighten me.

tabula rasa

The best things that happened to Otto were the ones that he had never expected because he had not imagined them. Whether he could have imagined them he wasn't sure. On the one hand, it seemed he indeed could have, since after they happened, he imagined them. On the other hand, just because things are imagined after they happen doesn't mean they were imaginable beforehand.

It was not coincidence. It was Otto. As soon as something entered into his imagination, he picked at it obsessively like an itchy scab until it became a dull scar consisting of layers upon layers of imagining. When the thing he imagined ultimately happened, it touched not him but the scar, and he could hardly feel it.

The only defense mechanism Otto had was to imagine as little as possible what might happen. Thus, except for what was absolutely necessary, he made no plans, followed no schedule, committed himself to nothing. Often he loved waking up with the day before him as a tabula rasa. Sometimes he despaired.