The Diary of Marcel Winatschek

Above the World

Above the World

We had a sumptuous dinner on Adam’s and Eva’s rooftop terrace. Sina and Eva had prepared vegan lasagna with Italian salad and pudding with chunks in it - just the way I liked it best. Adam talked about the business: His club, the Chan Shin, and how hard it was to keep a place like that going these days. There was too much competition in the city, he said, and the customers were getting weirder and weirder - but at least funnier. He was tall, with monumental tattoos on both arms depicting lions, eagles, stars, tribals, and roses. Multiple shiny piercings adorned his madness-ridden face, and his dark voice lent an inescapable emphasis to every single thing that he said to people.

His wife Eva, on the other hand, was small, slim, and slender. Her perfectly straight, shoulder-length blonde hair often transformed her into the image of a bright fairy in my imagination. Her voice was gentle and level-headed. I would have loved for Eva to read me a bedtime story one day. I nodded incessantly as Adam spoke, but in truth, I didn’t really care about anything he was explaining. I was one of the most colorful characters in the whole business, and I didn’t give a damn. Sina knew that. She gave me a sympathetic look and took a big bite of lasagna. At the time, I thought it was adorable how she shoved large chunks of food into her mouth. Maybe I still do, even today.

Why does this world make you so happy? I asked her as we walked home. What world do you mean? she replied, hugging me loosely before dancing happily on the cobblestones. The parties, the clubs, the overexcited people. The drugs and all that. She stopped and slowly turned to face me. Because you live in it. I stared at her in disbelief. But I hate it. And you know that. Why? Because none of it is real. It’s all hyped up and artificial. People repress their problems and worries, drown them in alcohol, and push themselves into some kind of mental escape with pills - only to hit the harsh ground of reality all the harder the next morning. We live in a very sad world.