There was nothing else but the path to inner loneliness, to oneself, to the depths of the soul. That seems to be what the voice on the radio is saying, which for some mysterious reason is now working again. When did he turn it on? So far, he has always found the inner soul best at the bottom of a vodka bottle. He has one last one left, and before it is empty, there is no point in really getting involved with himself. Before he tips it back, the stuff is best off ending up inside him. Incidentally, Ernst is said to have been a heavy drinker in addition to his altruistic nature. So at least now he is following his role model. The image of his own soul melts away in the warmth of the drink, which sloshes through his glass in magnificent colors. Never has he felt closer to the core of existence than now, the birch trees, the columbines, the sunlight that is now actually breaking through and refracting through the slats of the blinds. He has understood the meaning of life. He is finally the person he was meant to be.
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