Es dauerte einen Moment, bis er ihr antwortete:Nein, ich spreche von… von eurer Freiheit, glaube ich. Von dem Glück, das ihr habt, für euch zu leben und auf alles andere zu pfeifen.
A pen, you see, you hold it between your thumb and your index finger. No, wait, you hold it however you want. After that, it’s not hard, you don’t even think about it. Your hands don’t exist anymore. The important thing happens elsewhere. No, this won’t do, it’s still too pretty. You’re not being asked to come up with something pretty, you know. No one gives a damn about pretty. There are children’s drawings and glossy magazines for that. So put on your mittens, little genius, little empty shell, yes, go on, put them on, I tell you, and maybe at last you’ll see, you’ll draw an almost perfect failed circle.