Doppelgänger. Drndic Dasa

      ***

      Look at yourself.

      Such silence.

      Thick as shit between the buttocks. Thick.

      You have features. They’re here.

      Look at yourself in the window. The window is black. Behind it lies the night. Look how clear your image in the window is.

      On the surface of the water float flakes of Isabella’s dead skin. Isabella is being flayed. She can’t say why her skin is dying. She’s got too much skin. Today Isabella did some drawings. There was a lot of black. The water’s getting cold. Isabella adds some warm water. She must get out, she’ll shrivel. Isabellas are good and gentle. Isabellas are special beings.

      ***

      The Daily News

      Sunday, January 2nd 2000.

      WOMAN HANGS HERSELF IN ATTIC OF BLOCK OF FLATS

      Isabella F. (77) committed suicide by hanging.

      According to the information obtained from the local Police, the unfortunate elderly woman died in the early morning hours of Saturday, January 1st. The body of the woman was found hanging in the attic of the building where she lived. The possible reason that led Isabella F. to perform such an act so far remains unknown. Following their examination of the place of suicide the local Police released information to the press. (D.R.)

      MAN KILLS HIMSELF BY JUMPING FROM WINDOW

      Artur B. (79) committed suicide on Saturday, January 1st by jumping from his living-room window.

      According to information given out at a press conference called by the police, the elderly man committed suicide between 5:30 and 6:30 a.m. on the first day of the New Year. So far, any motive that could have led Artur B. to perform such an act remains unknown. The police have no information about whether the old man suffered from any serious illness that could have driven him to suicide. The investigation at the scene of the incident was carried out by the Criminal Officers of the City Police Administration. (B.O.)

      ***

      FROM POLICE DOSSIERS

      SUBJECT: ARTUR BIONDI(Ć), RETIRED CAPTAIN OF THE YUGOSLAV NAVY.

      NUMBER: 39 D-C Ia /01-02-00

      Artur Biondi(ć) committed suicide on January 1st 2000 by jumping from his living-room window on the seventh floor. He was found lying motionless by the rubbish containers (three of them) in front of the building he lives (lived) in. The autopsy confirmed that death had occurred immediately after the fall. Time of death: between 5:30 and 6:30 a.m.

      Case ‘Artur Biondi(ć)’ filed ad acta.

      ***

      FROM POLICE DOSSIERS

      SUBJECT: ISABELLA FISCHER, MARRIED ROSENZWEIG.

      NUMBER: 40 D-C Ib/01-02-00

      Isabella Rosenzweig née Fischer hanged herself in the attic of the house she lived in. Time of death: between 5:30 and 6:30 a.m. on January 1st 2000. She left no letter or message.

      Case ‘Isabella Fischer married name Rosenzweig’ filed ad acta.

      ***

      Is that a forest? It is wide and spacious. There are trees and there are no trees. Where there are trees, the trees are small. Where there are trees, they are puny and short. Maybe it’s a magic forest. Through that space, through that unbounded space resembling a terrestrial cosmos they run, they soar and they lose their way because there’s no end. It is impossible to arrive, there is no place to come to. They are seeds, they are grain and they scatter. On a tiny tree a harpy squats and watches. With folded wings it crouches and watches. And picks at leaves. Its belly is covered with feathers. That’s my face, says Isabella. That’s my face, says Artur. The branch breaks, it’s a tiny branch, a thin branch. The small tree turns red and begins to flow. They are leaves. We are leaves, they say. They pluck at themselves and they hang and they touch the ground and they flow. We pluck at ourselves, say Isabella and Artur. They have huge eyes, huge eyes like cows’, brown and round like Mozart balls. In which there is nothing. No marzipan, no almonds, no crimson cherries. There is only the round dark shell, empty. They do not know, because they are old and forgetful, they do not know that inside them crouch their Doppelgängers who whisper, while they piss themselves, while they breathe, slowly and spasmodically, while they tremble, while they eat chocolates. Their disguised Doppelgängers threaten and summon them, call out and shout, come on – join us.

      PUPI

      Translated by Celia Hawkesworth

      It is drizzling but he cannot move.

      I can’t move.

      Small, fateful, pasts grow in his head. They get mixed up with the drizzle, which is the present.

      Most of the rhinos in the world are black. There are grey ones and white ones as well, the white ones are rare. There are fewer and fewer rhinos. They are an endangered species, there are more and more endangered species, that is why there are ever fewer of them. They are disappearing.

      He is disappearing too.

      I’m disappearing, says Printz. His name is Printz.

      Rhinos take on the colour of their surroundings. They blend. In cities, their surroundings are grey.

      I’m blending, says Printz. I’m in the city and I’m blending. I’m standing in the zoo watching the rhinos. Everyone can see that. There’s no one here. I’m alone. My name is Printz.

      He is in the city, Printz is.

      He is in the zoo, watching the rhinos. They are big animals, fat and rough-skinned.

      People think they are dangerous animals, ugly animals, but they aren’t. Rhinos are no danger to people. I’m no danger to people. Rhinos can be a danger to each other, not to people. They can be a danger to themselves because they destroy each other, destroy themselves. Rhinos are tame and self-destructive. Rhinos aren’t bloodthirsty. They’re wild beasts, heavy beasts. I’m no longer heavy, I’ve shrunk. I was handsome, oh, how handsome I was. And big.

      Rhinos run at a slow trot, when they run. When they run, they wobble. Their great bodies sway from side to side in slow motion, they sway. Look at them swaying!

      Rhinos are like big waves so that scares you, I’m not frightened. The rhinos down there below me are very big. That’s all.

      Printz stands on a ridge, looking at the two rhinos down below, in their enclosure. It is late autumn. The colours are autumnal, dreary.

      I’m watching the rhinos. They’re big.

      Printz would like to tell someone something, there is no one.

      I would like to tell someone, anyone, I’d like to tell someone: I buried Mother today. Mother is called Ernestina, we called her Tina, there’s no one around.

      Shout. Shout to the rhinos down below, they are down there, in the hollow.

      Zoos are not a good place for outings when it’s late autumn and cold and you’re burying your mother. I feel alone.

      He is not alone. He has a father.

      My father is old and sad. I’ll take him on a trip.

      And he has a brother.

      My brother’s no good now. I’ll take my father a long way away.

      But no, Printz is not yet alone. Printz’s dense solitude is just coming into being. Behind it there is darkness.

      My solitude is budding, says Printz. I feel my solitude budding, I can see my solitude budding, that’s why I take deep breaths.

      Printz takes deep breaths on the ridge, watching the rhinos while