This is me in 1964. It was a sunny morning and I had just left work to return home. I was wearing my favourite suit because of a talk I had to give to some students at university. I ironed the shirt myself for the very first time in my life. The black bag I was carrying was actually empty but it made me feel save to have it next to me and lift it up a bit everytime someone said hello to me or the other way round. After the speech the secretary gave me a piece of paper. It said: Your son called. He asks you to come home. I nodded and said: ‚I understand‘ The secretary nodded as well. She knew that this was a lie. All the way home I was wondering what it might be. Had someone died, was someone pregnant, did the roof of the house collapse, did Marta finally return, did the horrible neighbours move out, was there an important document in the mail, did my son suddenly realize that I was right about much more than he wanted to admit?
This is me. It was a sunny morning, 11:20am. I was walking down a street where I once kissed a girl with a name that sounded like a promise. I was walking in front of a group of women who talked about the sea. I was walking by my favourite bakery and didnt buy anything. I was walking towards home where my son waited for me in the kitchen and said something I would never forget.