liegt immer noch unter der Türschwelle zum Eckzimmer. Jetzt überlegte ich, ob da nicht ein Besen auf dem Leiterwagen gewesen ist.
On the first of April, a little old woman moved into the flat next door. When I woke up in the morning and was still lying in bed, half asleep, I heard noises coming from the flat next door that I didn't recognise. This flat was actually unoccupied, so I was confused by the sounds coming from it. At first, I thought I was dreaming. I dreamed that a witch was flying past the window on a broomstick. But then I saw that it was birds. I must have fallen back asleep for a moment. When I woke up again, I heard a rhythmic knocking. Were they Morse code signals? What was the message? Was it an April Fool's joke? Was someone knocking on the ceiling with a broomstick? Now it was quiet again. I began to wonder why the flat next door had been unoccupied for so many years. I had only been living in this house for three years myself, and it was always said that the owners couldn't agree on anything, which was why the flat wasn't being rented out. Actually, I had always suspected that the flat was occupied, because one window was usually open at dusk and in the morning even the shutters were closed. But it had never been important enough for me to talk to anyone in the building about it. And somehow it always reassured me that there was a kind of mystery next door. Now the reassurance was gone and a quiet fear crept through me. I remembered that while renovating our flat, I had discovered a photograph under a doorstep showing a small old woman standing next to a uniformed man wearing a peaked cap from the First World War. The woman was smiling, and next to her was a handcart loaded with all sorts of things. And the man actually looked friendly too. The photo is still under the doorstep to the corner room. Now I wondered if there had been a broom on the ladder cart. Als er sich an die versammelten Gäste wenden wollte, versagte ihm die Stimme. Er stand da und schluckte. Sein Mund fühlte sich trocken an. Er blickte in erwartungsvolle Augen. Wie es passiert war, dass er Handzeichen in die Luft setze und diese dem Publikum sehr eindringlich präsentierte, konnte er auch nach dem Vortrag nicht sagen. Es passierte. Es ging alles wie von selbst. Es war, als ob beide Hände in eine Art Dialog verstrickt waren, der zwischenzeitlich sehr leise und zärtlich wurde. Fast abebbte, dann jedoch nach einer Pause wieder an Dynamik gewann. Er selbst wurde in eine Geschichte gesogen, die er nicht kannte und die ihn aber selbst anzog und zunehmend begeisterte. Er spürte, wie das Publikum gebannt auf seine Hände blickte und auch in seine Augen sah. Seine eigenen Augen wanderten durchs Publikum und es war, als ob die Hände jemand anderen gehören würden. Zum Schluss trat er einen Schritt zurück und verneigte sich vor seinen eigenen Händen.
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