I don't remember when I first noticed it. I'd be standing at a tram stop waiting for a tram, staring at the map of the city in the glass case, at the colour-coded bus and tram routes that I didn't understand and that were of little or no interest to me at the time, standing there without a thought in the world when suddenly, out of the blue, I'd be overcome by a desire to bash my head into the glass and do myself harm. And each time I'd come closer to it. Here I go, any second now, and then ...
'Come now, Comrade,' he would say in a slightly mocking tone, laying a hand on my shoulder. 'You're not really going to ...?'
It's all my imagination, of course, but the picture it creates can be so real that I really think i'm hearing his voice and feeling his hand on my shoulder.

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Last modified on September 28, 2011  | © Telegram 2005