I saw what you did that night and I told everyone. I couldn't keep quiet. It was nothing bad, nothing that would have shaken the world, and yet a doubt stirred in me. A doubt about everything, especially about you. Because I saw what you had done, something I would never have believed you could do. I saw how you hesitantly walked back and forth, pressed your ear to the wall, peered through the gap, rubbed your hands together. I saw the way you looked at me when you realised I was standing next to you. I knew at that moment: it would never be the same again. You had to move on, leave me behind. You had to do what you had to do to be who you wanted to be.

The people I told about it were upset. Nobody knew you like that, nobody had ever seen you like that. Nobody would have thought you could do something like that. In the middle of the night, in the middle of the bar, on that wooden wall that was there and through which you were peeping. I was desperate, and so was everyone I told about it. No one could imagine where you might have gone. Everyone thought you must still be sitting in the chair, at the little table with the wide steel edge, rocking gloomily in front of you, a cigarette in the corner of your mouth, talking about your life, about your youth, about the torments that had been inflicted on you. No one could have imagined that you would just get up, that although you saw me, you would run your head into the nail in the wall so that it dug into your eye and took your sight. And that you then tried again, with the other eye, until the nail penetrated through the top of your skull into your brain and you couldn't get out. There you were, hanging from the nail, with the nail in your head, in your brain, laughing.

When you did that, it was quiet in the bar. Nobody spoke, nobody shouted, nobody moved. Burning cigarettes fell to the floor, scorching the dirty carpet. You drooled, you laughed, and nobody could help you. Nobody tried, because everyone was too shocked. I'm telling you this now, knowing that you can't hear me. That you are no longer here. That you did what you had to do to erase the past that was inside you. To forget what your eyes had seen, what your body had felt. And now you hang there, without memory, without time, on the nail, with the nail in your head, and slowly stop twitching in front of you.

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