having no teenage rebellion of my own at the time the repressed desires began resurfacing years later finally able to have some fun after years of being locked up by old faithful guilt morality law abiding citizenry and all round proto-capitalist good girl shit n Leipzig we were dropped on the bad side of town by a mute german named franz who almost had a haemorrhage when my vomit reflex triggered on the autobahn I was in a play with the most intricate of backdrops and a tinny bell rang somewhere deep within behind the dark wooden doors heavy with history Leipzig was burnt out grafitied brutal intense avant garde connected it had a secret behind every wooden door glass smashed out boarded up it was incredible we were accosted in the street at ten o'clock in the morning by a man whose eyes were about to be killed in a car crash he asked for a lighter we continued walking and after half an hour we passed him again with no idea how he got there oskar walked through those old rooms like a knight hand beaten armour reflecting the faces of those who enquired of his opinion pacing to different wings with hammer and lance in paint flecked fist dirt clinging under fingernails I saw skywriting this morning and a fly trod through the words and I let my neck amble too I jumped up between each second and sat with stillness I missed my home I gagged on strangeness I drew rings around limbs I missed salted skin finally the tension seemed right and what I thought was tension was actually sweat I slid down the seat and onto the ground I leant close to his face and felt his beard brush on my lips and I touched them slowly what are you doing he said and in answer I switched to the other check I can be your companion he said but whatever that meant I never found out