14.9.2011 The shell construction we had seen on the airstrip some days
before was finished now and hovered over our heads in a soft curve
into the dusk at horizon. The prototype had in its first phase of
construction looked like the framework of half a Globe-theatre.
Halfround facades. Now that the thing pended in mid-air we saw that it
had received a cockpit and a triangular onewing, the design apparently
allowed for contrary rotation of wing and basis. But the vector of the
flying object didn’t look like a safe trajectory, and indeed the
airvehicle eventually sideslipped and crashed into a street that was
separated from us by some high residential buildings. I got out of the
cab and started running. Firestorms, cold snowy ground, the contents of
trashcans flying into my direction, blocking the view to the crashsite
ahead. Dead surroundings, thoughts of ending in this moment.
The other experiences were a series of unlogical riddles. With Johann
in the library, secret elevators hidden in the wooden paneling of the
reading hall. Races against wolves, with reset button: an unlikely
combinatiuon of pressure points on my own torso. The airship –
forgotten. It was about men now and later also women.
Eventually, it was about my professor, who invited me into
his flat. He joked about a new late-night-shop just recently having
opened in his building, providing “coffee all night long” whereas I was
certain no one visits these shops for coffee, people buy beer there.
I was busy with the rental cars, couldn’t listen.