Sobald, als ich einen Krppel sah, langsam zu keuchen seine letzten Tage mit der weien Pest, schauend von hohl Augen, benennend fr Luft, hoffnungslos gestikulierend mit den vergeudeten Hnden in der Dunkelheit und im Staub eines Hauses unten in einem Elendsviertel, sagte ich zu mich, das ich eher eine hohe Sonnenblume lebend in einem Landgarten gewesen sein wrde, der ein golden-braunes Gesicht zum Sommer anhebt, Regen-gewaschen und Tau-vernebelt, gemischt mit den Mohnblumen und den ordnenden hollyhocks und wonderingly aufpassender Nacht nach Nacht die freien leisen processionals der Sterne.
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