I started collaging to distract myself from my writer’s block. Now collage led me back to writing when the collages began to tell stories.

Minh

When Minh came home, it was dusk. She noticed that the neon sign of the dry cleaner’s was flickering nervously. She didn’t notice the pungent smell of chemicals clinging to her clothes, her hair, the pores of her skin. She unlocked the front door and called his name. The name he had chosen to become someone other than who he was. No answer. The chicken soup she had left for him stood untouched on the stove. His bed was rumpled, dirty clothes and the foil wrapper from a chocolate bar lay on the floor. In her mind, she would never call him anything other than what she chose when he was first placed in her arms, all wrinkled and wet. Even then, his gaze had seemed sceptical to her, as if he mistrusted the world he had just entered. In the bathroom sink lay strands of hair, silky soft and black. She let one of them slip through her fingers when the doorbell rang. She jumped. She put the chain on and opened the door a crack. ‘No,’ she said, ‘Tobi isn’t here. I don’t know where he is.’ She closed the door again and went into the living room. She sat down on the sofa which still looked immaculate even after years of use and turned on the television. She wouldn’t think about who the two men in their colourful tracksuits and short gelled hair were, the ones looking for Hai. Not today, not now.

That Morning

That morning, he got in his car and drove away. He had thought he would stay here forever. In this place, where he had no ties. Except for the misfortune. The tragedy. The stroke of fate. The reporter had asked him how it felt to lose everything at once. They had thought they would start over here. “A lottery win,” Lena had called her new job. But then they didn’t. He alone would not start over. He needed all his strength just to keep going. He couldn’t say what was different that morning. Just as he hadn’t been able to say anything in response to the reporter’s questions. Only slowly shake his head.  Maybe it was because the light was somehow different. Or because the air smelled faintly of lilacs.

Not today

He knew he had screwed up. Laura would never let him see the child again. His daughter, who had the same eyes as him. Eyes that changed color like a chameleon. This morning they had been light blue, almost transparent. He had taken her to the park and put her in the baby swing. Her chubby fingers had clasped the bar and she had laughed with joy. The two mothers smiled at him appreciatively from the bench. Later, he had cooked lunch for her. Not just opened a jar, but peeled carrots and potatoes and sautéed them in butter. When he tried to feed her, she started screaming. And after that, everything was somehow— When Laura came to pick her up, he was fast asleep. So deeply, as if he had something to forget. He didn’t wake up when she unlocked the apartment door and took the child out of the high chair. Only when she slammed the door behind her did he open his eyes. He stared at the damp spot on the ceiling and wondered what it meant to love a child. When his cell phone rang, he slowly sat up and answered it. It was Bernie, with loud music playing in the background. “No,” he said, “not today, bro.” He hung up and let himself sink back onto his pillow. 

Transition

When she noticed that everyone else had disappeared, she was startled. But she quickly got used to it. The weather was unusually warm for October, and she took long walks without encountering anyone.  She walked past the café and the playground. Birds were sitting on the jungle gym. The animals were obviously unaffected. She stopped at the fence of the recycling site, behind which lay piles of scrap metal that no one would ever use again. Back home, she watered her houseplants and enjoyed the sun shining through the windows. She thought she would be able to get by for quite a while with the food available at the supermarket.

A man´s world

When he got out of bed, he saw that the picture of Muhammad Ali had fallen off the wall again. At least the frame was still intact this time. He picked up the picture and tried in vain to push the nail back into the worn hole in the wall. He put the picture on the bedside table; he just didn’t have the energy for it right now. He had only just got up, but already he felt as tense as after a long shift. He went into the bathroom and stared into the eyes of his reflection. Nothing came of it. He thought about the woman from last night. One of those who didn’t even give him a second glance. Women like that made him angry. The ones who thought they were better than him. He went into the kitchen and poured some cereal into a bowl. A moth flew up and fluttered towards the kitchen table. Every few weeks, he threw away opened food packages and set traps. A stupid way to waste your money. But he couldn’t get rid of the damn vermin. When the moth settled on the kitchen table, Ruiz swung his clenched fist down on it with all his might. An unnecessary exertion of energy, to be honest, for such an insignificant creature.

The chosen one

Now he didn’t care whether they wanted him here or not. Whether the neighbor greeted him with his constantly yapping mutt or not. He had done it. He had fulfilled God’s mission and built him a church. His people would come and celebrate him for it, that much was certain. Everything else would fall into place.