I opened the door to his apartment. It was pitch dark. Only from the narrow space left by a door ajar, I could see a streak of light. I moved cautiously, negotiating every step forward as I could not see where I was treading. Finally, I reached the door, pushed it open a bit more, glanced in. There I saw him standing, cuddling and caressing a bunch of tulips... tenderly stroking the leaves, lost in his own thoughts, oblivious to his surrounding... He was moving back and forward as if listening to some silent music. He appeared much younger and certainly more vulnerable than I remembered him to be just two days ago...
I could sense that he was starting to lose himself, that he got entangled in a myriad of emotions he could not handle anymore. I could palpably feel a mesh of conflicting emotions that drove him mad - and with it a sheaves of mixed emotions where I was simply a footnote.
His jaw started to quiver, leaving a slightly insane smile on his face. He still was unaware of my presence, unaware of the fact that I was observing him.
Then the unquestionable truth dawned on me. I recognised what I had known in my inner self for a long time but pushed away, ignored for much too long, did not want to accept: I did not belong to his world, I never belonged to it in the first place, and what is worse, I had no right to be in...
[Excerpt from the Novel Cycle „Fragments“ by Roman Beljajev/Роман Беляев; Copyright © 1933 Роман Беляев]
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