The woman was finally done, and Beatrix reached for a magazine. There were always German magazines lying around here, Vogue was extremely rare; who wanted to read German magazines, anyway? Twin Murders in Stuttgart. Certainly...

Miranda doesn’t dream, she simply rests. When Miranda’s eyes are at ease, her mind is at peace.

The children are in love but do not know with what. They talk in gibberish, muse themselves into an indefinable pallor, and when they are completely at a loss they invent a language that maddens...

The facts that make the world real– these depend on the unreal in order to be recognised by it.

Elisabeth had not had her future and her parents had not had theirs, there was nothing to this so-called future which was always promised to the young.

But Beatrix knew very well that there were no jobs, not even the most pitiful office routine – she wasn’t even qualified for that – and that no one would allow her to sleep until...

No new world without a new language.

As it was all was lost. He was alive, yes, he was alive, he felt this for the first time. But he knew now that he was living in a prison, that he had to...

…the simple task of getting dressed and undressed was a real strain, but nothing could compare with her addiction to deep sleep…

With the aid of a minute correction – that of the dispersing lens – in a gold frame perched on her nose, Miranda can see into hell.