the lightning strike. So far it was the dead bodies on the sectional tables that were struck by lightning as people. On the way back through mud and puddles in the pitch darkness, the thought of pain and agony, and that the girl had the last bit of life over, writhed in me had to walk the bridge alone without getting a kiss goodbye from her mother. On the way I remembered the lines from the 5th Psalm in the German translation by Martin Buber:
“Listen to my sayings, YOU, / pay attention to my sighs, / note the voice of my groans, / O my King and my God, / for to you I pray. / YOU, / in the morning you hear my voice, / in the morning I equip you, / and I peek. // Because you are not a deity / you have a lust for sacrilege / an evil one is not allowed to dine with you / braggers do not stand before your eyes / you hate all those who suspect / you let the talkers of deceit disappear. - / The man of bloodshed and deceit is an abomination to YOU.”
Kristofina and the fate of her childhood were "engraved" in my memory.
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