Joachim Matschoss

Dead River Oaks Joachim Matschoss

We hadn?t planned that walk. We had never planned anything. It happened and other times it didn?t. We had intended just to sit for a while, watch the birds dive or swoop across the surface, but somehow we started to discuss religion and politics, and as always I was the one listening and Karla talked.

?I?m sorry, Lisa. I guess it?s because I rarely have a chance to talk. When I?m with him I barely get the chance?to talk.?

Somewhere between Heidegger and the role of Lothar Späth in the collapse of the Christian Democrats-led government in one of the Southern states of Germany she told me, that she had recently dreamt of my hair and how much she would like to lift its thick mass off my shoulders, loved to touch its magnificence. I felt good, despite the awkward placement of this compliment, but before I could reply, a ?thank you? on my lips, she began to talk about Martin and the blown light bulb in the study, which had annoyed him for a couple of days now.

?Why don?t you change it?? I said with a smile and was surprised that I had spoken.