以前我们还在一个州的时候,经常莫名其妙地在其他城市的火车站台和餐馆偶遇。今天我坐着迟到了十分钟的电车赶到离饭店最近的站,下了车发现马路对面的她也在找方向,原来我们竟坐了一辆车
Der Geographielehrer holt Landkarten und zählt Bundesländer und Hauptstädte auf. Er fragt Pekka, was die Hauptstadt seines Heimatlandes sei, und Pekka sagt: »Stuttgart.«
Der Geographielehrer sagt: »Sehr lustig.«
Alle lachen, sogar die Traumatisierten.
Der Geographielehrer fragt mich, was die Hauptstadt meines Heimatlandes sei, und ich sage: »Belgrad und Sarajevo und Berlin.«
这几个地方好好笑我在火车上笑到变形,对面的人也看着我笑,我就念给他听,然后我们一起笑,他说回去也找这本书看
“Im Emmertsgrund reichten einander die Hand: Bosnier und Türken, Griechen und Italiener, Russlanddeutsche, Polendeutsche, Deutschlands Deutsche. […] Die Supermarktschlange sprach sieben Sprachen. […] Auf dem Parkplatz lernten wir voneinander falsches Deutsch.”
”In einer lauen Sommernacht in meinem zweiten deutschen Jahr habe ich dort mein Herz verloren an ein Mädchen mit rotem Haar, das mir versucht hat beizubringen, das Verb stehe in deutschen Relativsätzen immer am Satzende, was ich schon längst wusste, aber sie erklärte so schön.”
”Von unserem einzigen Holländer, dem Michel, der mal bei einer Polizeikontrolle auf die Frage »Geboren?« mit »Ja« geantwortet hatte.”
That girl was born into a prison nation, into darkness, yet she still looked upon her life as a gift, as an opportunity to realise herself in love, to give love, to share her happiness with the world.
[…] And at some point I realised: no, this was not the naivety and folly of a silly young girl who had failed to understand what was going on around her, this was the wisdom of the one who has sent, does send and always shall send girls into this world, no matter what hell we’ve turned it into.
The world around is cold and dark, but into it has been sent a girl so that, candle-like, she might illuminate the all-pervasive human darkness with her need for love.
if you love your Motherland, should you wish her victory or defeat? It’s still not completely clear where the Motherland ends and the regime begins, so entangled have they become.
While still at school I didn’t realize, of course, how hard it must have been for Mum and all our teachers: they were faced with the insoluble problem of teaching children to tell the truth whilst initiating them into a world of lies. The written law requires that truth be told, but the unwritten dictates that if you do, you’ll be facing the music later.
They taught us lies they themselves didn’t believe because they loved and wanted to save us. Of course, they were afraid of wrongly spoken words, but they were afraid for us even more than they were for themselves. The country, after all, was in the grip of a deadly word game. You needed to say the right words and not say the wrong ones. The line had never been drawn, but inside everyone sensed where it lay. Our teachers were trying to save truth-loving youths from folly, to inject them with a life-giving dose of fear. You might feel a little momentary sting, but then you’d have immunity for life.
We may have been badly taught in chemistry or English, but at least we got illustrative lessons in the difficult art of survival—how to say one thing, and think and do another.
学到 Ziekenhuis = Krankenhaus 的时候我还有一点疑惑,为什么是 Zieken,当学到 ziek = krank 的时候我就明白了荷语不愧是英语和德语大杂烩!
在虚构类文学里吃瘪太多之后就忍不住去找工具书宽慰,起码工具书里一定能有收获。
不知道为什么最近一年无论是看电影还是看书都找不到自己想听的故事,能看的基本上都是关于语言方面的身份认同的,但那也不是我唯一需要的故事。
另外还看了一个短动画,讲妈妈不放心女儿离家,幻化成一只手一直陪伴在身边,但是被女儿刻意忽略直至死去的故事。那个还挺戳的,但我忘了名字..