[b]Herta Müller
My flesh was burning where the skin was scraped off my knees, and I was afraid that I couldn’t be alive anymore with so much pain, and at the same time I knew I was alive because it hurt. I was afraid that death would find its way into me through this open knee and I quickly covered my knee with my hands.[/b]
Maybe it works, maybe it doesn’t.
To combat death you don’t need much of a life, just one that isn’t yet finished.
Could it really be as simple as that?
At a time I used to think that in a world without guards people would walk differently from the way we do in our country. Where people are allowed to think and write differently, I thought, they will also walk differently.
So, how might you walk differently?
No words are adequate for the suffering caused by hunger. To this day I have to show hunger that I escaped his grasp. Ever since I stopped having to go hungry, I literally eat life itself. And when I eat, I am locked up inside the taste of eating. For sixty years, ever since I came back from the camp, I have been eating against starvation.
How many here can say that?
Only the demented would not have raised their hands in the great hall. They had exchanged fear for insanity.
Where’s the great hall here? The one with all the fist pumping.
No cities can grow in a dictatorship, because everything stays small when it’s being watched.
How small? twitter.com/realDonaldTrump?ref … r%5Eauthor