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Monologue with my daughters When their father died, they had the feeling of loss without ever having known him - a feeling that disturbed them greatly. So, I tried to follow his moments in his apartment, in his life, as if I could halt him from disappearing. I created pictures, in which my memories could get lost, and I tried to share these with my daughters. Jana Kempe

As soon as they find their rightful place, the place they could be if they wanted, they will quickly find their existence. Suddenly, very suddenly, you will realise everything about them, whatever you thought you had forgotten; you will hear them speak, touch their hair and see yourself reflected in the shine of their eyes. You might never have been sure of the colour of their eyes, but now it is clear. It is possible that their every aspect will become more intense; it is possible that they will only realise themselves with their sudden shower of light. It is possible that all dead people expect his or her fulfilment in the resurrection that is offered by someone left behind. We don’t know anything for sure, we can only wish. But, surely, this is the most precious thing that a person has. Even if a single person cares not for himself in any other way. Ellias Canetti

Head over Heel When she looked at him for longer, she recognised a man in this boy. A man, whose tenderness surprised her as much as his stubborn way of wanting to be with this world and at the same time to be away from it. Effortlessly, a certainty developed in her, such that the closeness she felt, was one she had not known before. Looking at herself it seemed like something was covering her, like a veil. Whether or not this veil originated from this special certainty in her or whether it was the basis for it she could not say. Had she ever thought of having children before her daughters were born? Do parents ever have this lust for life with such big eyes and then take the bike out for a trip around the park or wherever in the world? She couldn‘t remember thinking of another man before he showed up. This one who stood his ground with his large feet in a particular way and – just for a short time of closeness – smelled of something that made her leave sooner. Her body stretched next to the man and ached with pain, a feeling of something unavoidable that could not be delayed: Now was the time, that moment where she could leave. When she wanted to say goodbye, he pulled one cheek up. His left eye appeared to be squashed – the bizarre

thought of a monocle distracted her briefly. He had never had so many wrinkles as in this moment, when she put the older girl into the buggy and the little one down from his shoulder into his face for a smile. Who could have freed her from the wrinkles? She asked herself later, when that day had long since passed, that day when she visited a shop to buy some curtain material, pale yellow and not quite transparent, just as she wanted it. Then this frailness appeared that refered in a confused way to, when he could not have what he wanted. His smile appeared particularly boyish, she noticed, even childlike. And for some seconds, it reflected his unspoken desires, desires, she was not sure he allowed himself. What should you talk about with other people? He meant by shrugging his shoulders in an angular way while some old pain crept up his back. What should you talk about with other people, who you can hardly follow with your eyes? Head over heel, he fell down the stairs, shortly before his neighbour’s early shift. Just this moment, she felt angry because the day ha some craving for life, which drove her out of bed, or better: down from her loft bed, shortly after six o’clock. Katja Albert

Jana Kempe - Monolog mit meinen Töchtern  

Kempe, Jana - Monolog mit meinen Töchtern 454-210

Jana Kempe - Monolog mit meinen Töchtern  

Kempe, Jana - Monolog mit meinen Töchtern 454-210