The family all come together once every month. The women with the children meet in the afternoon. Coffee is drunk. The children are sent away. The should play. They must not hear everything. But the women whisper. Their faces show concern. They are speaking of someone who is very sick. At twilight they tell stories about ghosts and miraculous cures. They become frightened. They call the children. They press the children to their breasts. Then fruit is eaten. The men come. Conversations about hair styles, about business. And so on. The conversation moves haltingly. Suddenly stops, like a defective clock. Fear that it will stop entirely. A young girl blushes-But at one point everything is still. It feels suffocating. It feels unsafe, like in a swing, helpless, like in a slide... it feels ridiculous. One hears something like the wind sweeping across the roofs. Rain beats against the grey windows. Still silence. There-Is it really so bad... with him--how should it turn out... People avoid each other's eyes. Leopold Lehmann I am an employee of a bank. Because I have no patron, and I am not especially hard-working, I am not getting ahead. For more than 30 years I have been shifting the same kind of papers around in the same department. For this reason I am considered conscientious. For the last six months I have had a new assistant. His name is Leopold Lehmann. He knows everything better than I. He is the nephew of the deputy director. He calls himself a trainee. He likes to hear himself talk. Most of all he likes to talk about himself. As a result, I know the story of his life. Leopold Lehmann, as he emphasizes, was drawn in a clumsy manner from the womb with a forceps. His head is misshapen, like a noodle. His nose also. He has gone through the usual illnesses. He enjoys a complicated form of syphillis. It has eaten holes the size of fists in Lehmann's body. Leopold Lehmann wishes to give up his duties in the bank, to study theology. I believe that he has already given notice. Lehmann associates exclusively with theologians and with me. And with the deputy director. He has sclerosis of the spinal cord. Conversation about Legs When I was sitting in the coupé, the gentleman opposite me said: "Nobody can step on your toes." I said: "How so?" The gentleman said: "You have no legs." I said: "Is it noticeable?" The gentleman said: "Of course." I took my legs out of my backpack. I had wrapped them in tissue paper. And taken them with me as a memento. The gentleman said: "What is that?" I said: "my legs." The gentleman said: "You have a leg up and yet get nowhere." I said: "Unfortunately." After a pause the gentleman said: "What do you think you’re really going to do without legs?" I said: "I haven’t racked my brain much about that yet." The gentleman said: "Without legs even committing suicide is difficult." I said: "Yet that’s a bad joke."