THE THIRD
Thus they went out together; thus they had to go about among the tiger stripes of their school years. Yellow and black sparkles amidst the parched desert? You were high-and-dry romantics, Martin, Eva… In school, on the street, everywhere around you there was that odour of locker room and gym. The intimacy of group showers and comradely fingers, which knew how to transform your secrets into a slimy fretboard, which a person was soon ashamed to possess. There were busloads of them; they pushed in everywhere: loud-mouthed, occupying the whole city. They were called the ‘collective’ and from afar they sounded like cattle being readied for transport to the market on trains. In order to belong to the collective, an individual had to lose himself in it. Learn how to be yellowblack in t
