“ He's looking into the night, in case a shadow comes to listen and look. ”
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.
~ Herta Müller
Boredom is fear's patience. Fear doesn't want to exaggerate. Only on occasion--and fear considers this very important--does it want to know how things stand with me.
Today the grass listens when I speak of love. It seems to me that this word isn't honest even with itself.
How do you have to live, I wondered, to be in harmony with what you honestly think?
