homeless marguerites - Part 3

Bill could have never thought, that Francisco’s getting married – and he was yet unable to realize why Francisco really had to do this- could mean so much preparation and so much time spent on programming such a little ceremony. He even had to postpone talking to him about Julien and his worries for Annie, for he had thought he’d better be given less to worry before his marriage. In one week everything would be over and Francisco and Bill were at their best for taking the necessary measures.
Regardless of his extreme fatigue – not to say disappointment – Bill had noticed that Annie and Julien had a new topic going on: “Fairy Tales”!
That they have been talking a lot about it, saying things no one could really understand was one thing, the way Julien seemed to be tortured by these conversations – although this was only to be seen from a certain distance – was another. Not being able to figure out why Julien both participated at the discussions and was sometimes giving some kind of a lecture and also feared them like this topic sucked his life out of him, was actually the point where Bill thought he was anxious enough to need to talk to Francisco about the matter. Both he and Francisco had never really had much to do with Julien. They both liked him in general, for he was pleasantly polite and never tried to find out more than he was told, yet he was a good company at occasions like a quiet dinner or a little Christmas party; he was always there and never in your way and he was trustworthy in work.
None of them knew really much more about Julien and this lack of knowledge included not only his past life but also he himself, the way he was.
Julien, on the other hand, knew very well why he was so uncomfortable by the discussions, this was not at all his topic, not at all matter of importance to him; it was all part of the guy’s world which had suddenly entered his life through Annie. Oh again Annie Anderson and all she brought with herself! Fairy tales were also a part of what was now past, a part of all about which he did not even want to come close to thinking. He knew Annie well enough to know how it was when something interested her; the guy had brought her to the idea and she was suddenly filled up with questions and opinions and discussions and estimations and potential theories, and for what Julien knew of Annie, any rejection to participate meant a greater deal of having to think about it, than simply participating and letting it go by. So for the sake of a little peace of mind, he rathered take it the less complicated way, even if it mean one step forward for the guy, Johann, or whatever he was.

homeless marguerites - Part two

Julien was going to meet Annie for dinner in about half an hour and she was going to have just too many questions to ask him, just as usual. The little restaurant, “chez mammy”, where they used to dine over the last 3 months was one of Julian’s real favorites. There were always too little people who made you think and too little who thought about you; the perfect balance he desperately needed when he was meeting Annie Anderson. Annie, he had to admit, was a sweet girl; she was short tempered, talkative, intravagant of her own choice, more or less a stranger, from a world Julien would never get used to, but yet she was sweet. You could laugh at all the moments you passed with her, even if she took the moment to scare you to death or o torture you worse than your worst nightmares.
That was in fact, what Annie was to him, a reminder of the worst of his nightmares; and much more than that, she made lots of them come true again. The guy came visiting him again after long just two months ago and he has been dropping in on him every now and then ever since.
It was when he was finally made to plant the marguerites, he had found a nice place, a greenhouse where he had a good friend who would keep and hide them for him. He had found the seeds left from the old days and had taken them there with him.
He had taken the seeds out of his pocket, had taken a closer look at the soil, trying to remember how it had to be, when the guy had suddenly appeared from nowhere.
“Wagst du nun nur, sie mal nur einfach zu berühren!” he had said, clearly threatening.
Julien had had to back off; the guy was too strong for him to pick up a fight with. He was also much better at marguerites than him, so he just watched him do the job, and then he watched the marguerites, HIS marguerites, growing up over the two months.
And tonight, as he had called the restaurant to reserve the table he usually reserved for the two of them, he himself and Annie, the guy had come again.
He had been looking in the mirror, combing his hair after having taken a nice bath and saying his name on the phone. “Julien Lefevre, avec un e.” he had said, when he had suddenly found the guy looking at him. He had been unable to do anything but staring back as he had said: “Johann Schwarzinger” so clear that he still feared the table to be reserved at the guy’s name. He did not want to call the guy with his name; he had to remain the guy. Calling him with his name, calling him at all would just give him more strength, more courage and more credit; and this was the last thing Julien needed now that he knew the guy liked Annie Anderson.
He looked through the window, Annie was already sitting there. Did she know the guy? Did she like him? Did she love him? Was she searching for him all the time she passed with Julien? Did now Annie Anderson scare him as well? Was it time he had dated Annie for beating the guy before he could do anything?
In fact, Julien was even afraid of thinking about any of these questions. He gasped. He took a deep breath and leaving these thoughts behind him he entered the restaurant.

homeless marguerites - Part one

Waiting for the coffee sitting at Julien Lefevre’s little office in the old castle’s building, Bill Hollis gained the time to think about the young guy. He was indeed too young for such a reconstruction job, but Bill had to admit to have nothing to complain about. He knew how to keep his team hard working and yet satisfied and to Julien, himself, nothing seemed to be a greater fun than working. As a French, even his efforts for learning English were remarkable. It did not require high attention to notice how his English had improved; ever since he found out he had to deal with the American Bill instead of his French cousin Francisco.
Although having already traveled a long time with Francisco, Bill never tried to discover his secrets. All that he knew about Francisco’s life before the end of the WWII, was about his mother – Bill’s aunt - , that he was actually a French duke or something of the sort , that to the French, he was a great hero of the WWII, that he was damn rich for he was the last survived de Bergeux child and that being with him meant putting your life in fatal danger all the time.
Bill had learnt that all he had to do was to accomplish all Francisco asked him to do and he always did it well. Like the reconstruction of this de Bergeux castle, 32 km from Paris, were he sat now smelling the brewing French coffee.
Julien never started a long business conversation without coffee. One year was enough time for Bill to get used to it. Actually, he had learned to enjoy the moment sitting there, doing nothing, saying no words before coffee was served on Julien’s desk. He had noticed how his behavior towards Bill had changed ever since he had started socializing with their other cousin Annie. It was already about nine months that Annie was traveling with Bill and Francisco. Bill could not help thinking that their parents, who related the three were all dead, his and Francisco’s mothers and Annie’s father; the Andersons.
Bill believed there was something wrong going on with Julien, no matter how hardworking or nice he seemed to be. If he had had a sister or a daughter, he’d never trust any French guy with her. In fact, he believed there was something wrong with all of them. Sometimes he tried to speak himself to believing that it was just for he had long been accompanying Francisco. The fact that they were best friends would never lead into Bill approving of Francisco’s way with women, even now that he seemed to have his eye’s finally set on only one woman.
Bill took a deeper look at Julien now carefully putting the two cups among the pile of papers on his desk, smiling and sitting on his chair and he thought to himself that even if they were not all like Francisco, since he was their hero it must have meant that they all at least wished to be like him, so he told himself in clear conscious this time, that there WAS always something wrong with French guys.


Already living for one year in Paris, Bill Hollis had learned much more than Julien had expected him to the first days he had to work with him. He liked Bill, for one thing he was easy to work with, he’d just ask thousands of questions and then let go and one could do what they wanted; and for another- which Julien treasured the most- Julien never had to think much about Bill. He was in his thought, whenever he was in front of him or on the phone and such moments were mostly carefully scheduled. The latter made him incredibly at ease with Bill Hollis even considering the fact that he knew only a few words in French. Compared to his two cousins, Bill was a real luxury to Julien, one he could not always afford. Francisco was a mirror, reflecting facts he did not want to have ever known. He was an inobedient, independent, bugging mirror; he reflected what he wanted, regardless of what was in front of him.
But no one Julien had been acquainted with in his life could beat Annie Anderson. She made him think like hell, his brain worked faster than ever, she made him think so often and so much, he even had to think about things which had no connection with her at all. The thoughts had even made him plant some marguerite flowers again and this was the worst of all because not even Annie Anderson could make him think about himself as much as those magnificent flowers reminding him of the little garden they had at home when he was still a child, when his parents were still alive, when…
There it was! Annie had done it again! He was already thinking about what had nothing to do with Annie!
Another thing he appreciated about Bill was the silence he kept before drinking the coffee, so that Julien could use the opportunity to get rid of his poisoning thoughts.

erster Heft

Ich suche ein Einhorn, ein kleines Einhorn.
Wartest du, Einhörnchen, auf mich? Ich suche dich immer; hier und überall; immer...
Ich singe mir Lieder, aber eigentlich für dich!
Immer weiter singen...

. . .

Ich vermisse dich; heute und immer.
Ich weine nicht; ich kann es nicht, weißt du das? Du weißt es. du bist nicht hier und du siehst nichts. Du sprichst immer dauernd... aber nein, du sprichst gar nicht!
Du siehst und du sagst nichts, du weißt's aber du siehst's nicht.
Weine doch nicht!

. . .

Mein Fenster ist zu klein; ich liebe meinen Stuhl.

Ich habe doch viel Briefpapier; ich liebe meinen Stuhl.

Ich brauche doch keinen Tisch, ich kann immer noch an dich schreiben.

. . .

Ich bin das Einhorn, das nun überall sucht.

Ich sehe mir von hier oben alles an.

. . .

Ich bin das Einhorn aus Farsanegan. Ich muss immer weiter gehen und ich singe überall. Ich singe von meinem Land. Du kennst mich doch und mein Land auch, denn du kommst auch aus Farsanegan.

Die Schulzimmer kennst du alle und du hast auch mal an deren Wänder geschrieben.

Kannst du die Fenster noch sehen? Sie sind immer noch zu klein für die Einhörne und die Vögel, die wegfliegen müssen.

Ich bin das Einhorn aus Farsanegan.

auf gelber Wand

troubled

I have no idea, who you might be,

I never questioned it;

I don't even remember if I have ever been eager to know,

if it ever mattered.

I don't know why you have chosen me,

what I might be capable of, which others can't;

I have never worked anything great out,

I have never stood out,

I never received any important or famous awards.

The only time my name appeared on the paper
was when I passed the university entrance exam,

I am not even acquainted with anyone famous,

I have no links to any important person.

Those who know me, all know me in person
or have heard my mother talking about me.

I am not even reading the newspaper these days,
not even listening to the news,

I am just trying to satisfy myself with my books;

so now I don't have a clue what you could be searching for,

what you are expecting from me,

for I am still keen enough to have paid attention to your remarkably demanding look.

Do I have to make you leave me my life,

just like all others before you?

Call from Yesterday

The silent surrounding us

was way louder than the cries

with which we tried to raise our voices to you,

the blinding light lighting up the room

much dimer than the darkness

in which crawling we used to find our way to you,

the heat warming up the room

was much more freezing than the frost

which froze the land and the sea that very year,

our hands tied together

are further more incapable of reaching one another
than the times when we were miles apart

but still free;
and leading life by our own will.

Now the curse once cast upon us is fulfilled.

We are imprisoned in this silent, lightened, warm room, tied together,

so that none can call for another or tie another loose.

And yet deep in my heart

I believe to hear you humming an old well known song;

the song of the old days.

gestriges Lied

Gestern habe ich mich von den Jüngsten meiner Kleinen verabschiedet, ich nicht; eigentlich haben sie sich von einander und von ihrer angewöhnten Lebensweise verabschiedet. Ich habe sie ein letztes mal alle zusammen sehen können.
Das hat mich natürlich an uns erinnert und nicht nur mich, sondern auch meine Begleiterinnen.
Da, als sie alle zusammen auf der Bühne standen, wusste ich genau, was es für einen bedeutenden Moment war und konnte ich mir vorstellen, wie ihr Leben weitergehen soll.
Als ich sie alle mir ansah, wurde es mir bewusst, wie unschuldig sie waren; genau wie wir damals, vor 4 Jahren.
Als sie ihr gemeinsames Lied zusammen sangen - 240 Stimmen zusammen – konnte man auf ihren Gesichtern ihre wahre Gefühle ablesen, ihre Trauer, ihre Angst, ihre Hoffnung, ihre Sehnsucht, ihr Heimweh.
Diese letzte Chance, das Lied zusammen zu singen! Und am Ende waren sie wieder in Kreisen auf den Hof, denn manche Sitten streben nie aus!

Ach, meine Kleinen! Ihr wisst doch nicht, was das Leben alles euch antut; was aus euren schönen Träumen für eine bessere Welt wird; wie ihre Hoffnungen jede nach der anderen aufgegeben werden müssen, wie die schamlose Welt euch eure Unschuld stehlt.
Bleibt bei einander, denn ihr seid das Einzige, was euch hilft.
Bleibt bei einander, so schön, wie euer Lied es darstellt.