Franz Kafka, Beschreibung eines Kampfes.
The entire length of you is cut out of tissue paper, yellow tissue paper, like a silhouette, and when you walk one ought to hear you rustle... I listened to this rustle. To the turning of the pages, the unfolding of the tale.
The world bursts open with my discovery of books. One of the most fascinating books in my early childhood was an illustrated, tattered encyclopedia. With this guide I learned the way of the world. Later I read stories, novels, biographies. With them I learned the way of people.
I always search for the storyline in others. People are like books to me. I am irritated when I don't find a way to open them. Or to close them. As I like it, any time I like it. I didn't understand - and still not do - that they have a life beyond their pages. A life without me reading them. A life beyond my room and my imagination.