A wonderful winter day
A wonderful winter day is past. In Kwiatonowice. Steel-blue sky. Sharp contrasts. On the horizon. Good view. In air. Sun. On the fields. Snow. I could see that everything, without rising from the bed. Kasper brought me in that early coffee. To the bed naturally. Then they drove into the city. To the work. And I remained the whole morning alone. I love a wearing of the time out. Long the mute its. Without having to rise from the bed. A wonderful winter day. In the afternoon reading at school. The more benediction-rich the morning silence in the property house proved. School building did not stand to times of Lina Bögli yet. As other covering in the village. It would have itself been pleased about the presentation of second pupils of the second class. At three o'clock in the afternoon. The still bright hour. On a wonderful winter day. I remember - which have I even yesterday the Kwiatonowicern told - that Lina B. led nearly a half century long diary. Day after day. It wrote even if it did not have to write anything. For example: To say „nothing. “Or: „The same like yesterday. “(And yesterday could not do „I have anything to say! “been its). Tricks nearly as with Gombrowicz. Apart from the fact their life ran after the return to Switzerland, as it were after their „retirement” in very regulated courses. Experienced. Nearly ritualisiert. Daily walks. Daily English hours. Daily meals. She ate with the cutlery of the king Kalakaua, her had given gotten to the parting from Honolulu. Daily notes. The older it became, the more paid attention it to the order of each daily. Each yearly. I am also moved. There there is nothing to varnish. After the death of Lina Bögli appeared a modest memory of it. A personal record zerdehnter on book sides. Of its friend Amy Moser. Amy Moser wrote as the first, what afterwards all copied getreulich that Lina Bögli, when them lived in the hotel „cross” in duke book lake, which paid rent in each case for the hitting a corner room in the second stick „in advance for 12 years “, in order not to have to remember any longer. I am also Swiss. And I consider myself, how often she could pay their rent in advance for 12 years, if she lived 27 years in „the cross”? Does not come up somehow. In addition it could not know to ahead, how many years it would be vergönnt. Under this cross. Thus I set to the computer and opened its diaries, which I had before two years scanned. I possess nearly 5000 bit-maps - electronic illustrations are called each handwritten side. I flew over all holidays, Weihnachtsfeiertage, Silvester and New Year's Days from 1915 to 1940. And fast it proved that she paid the rent not for 12 years, but for 12 months. In each case 300 Franconias. A little thing. A mistake in the time. It is more important that I discovered on this occasion that she always adopted the year with nearly identical words, going to end, at Silvester: „Thus adieu, you dear old year, thousands owing to for everything that you me brought! “(31.12.1919 among other things). So always was it. Twenty five years long. By December 1940. The last diary ends with the entry on 28 December 1940: „It is a wonderful winter day; but I am not better. “And to it comes nothing more. Only emptiness. Those hurts. Each time, if it opens again. On the screen of my computer. In my memory. Before my eyes in Kwiatonowice. Nothing more. It had no more Kraft to adopt the old year with the used thanks. Their only three days were missing. Before, on 26 December it had noted two days: „Natural do not feel I better; and now I am still completely blind at the left eye. Everything approaches to the end! “ It lived still nearly one year. But the days did not become bright any longer. The silence zerdehnte the time. It died on the day of the winter sun turn, on 22 December 1941. A wonderful winter day is past.
