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ORIGINAL ODER FÄLSCHUNG: Nachrichten vom Faktenfälschen und falschen Fakten
14.I.2015 - F., a close friend, just phoned me. If I had decided finally... Or still not. He had asked me again and again, without ever receiving a final answer, without getting anything else than a murmuring sound that indicated that I didn´t have the faintest idea about what was at stake.
And there was no progress in me, and there would not be any in the future. After I had hung up the receiver to the wall, I turned to the photos again. They have been lying on the low cornertable next to the sofa for quite some time now, with their corners already bent upwards from being used and looked upon and turned ever again.
The cars on either of them looked much the same, and still it was easy to distinguish between them. I knew one of the cars was an original, while the other one was fake. The longer I looked at the photographs, less sure I found myself to name the one which was the original one. And when I turned the photo to read from the back if I was right or wrong, I even started to question if that was true. My impression that the backside indication was less and less supported by what I saw after turning again, was ever growing the more I felt my friend waiting impatiently for my answer.
But, who was I to decide? To decide which car was to chose as a wedding carriage for him and his bride. Which one was more beautiful, and, above all, if the choice of a fake Daimler was morally and aesthetically acceptable. And, since I was to be the bridegroom´s best man, it was me to decide on this. – Just now, in this very moment, time suspends in my room, and my eyes are creeping over the wall towards the phone.12.XII.2014 - I am sitting in my wheel-chair next to the window in my room. It´s a very small wheel-chair, it is so tiny that I can hardly feel it under my derrière. Look out my window, what do I see? What I see I don´t know, but the words that show up must, so I think, derive from what I see: „ascending smoke columns“. We got used to call the ascending smoke columns ascending smoke columns, but they are not. They are no columns. Many are the writers who named this winterly phenomenon in a way that might seem appropriate, or even witty, but it isn´t – they were just wrong. Could you lean on the white smoke? Do you see a temple roof which is supported by the smoke ascending from all those buildings of Berlin? Did you think your „smoke columns“ were preventing the sky above Berlin from collapsing? If you did, you were wrong. „Smoke columns“ are copies from another part of the setting, and writers use to paste it into another setting, which nature is alien to the column-setting. Copy-paste, that´s what I think while sitting in my tiny green wheel-chair by my window, and I see, what I don´t see: green leaves, brown earth, blue sky, the sun. I love my wheel chair. Not only because of its colour. 5.XII.2014 - Kopie eines Terrakottakriegers bei Ankunft in Deutschland auseinandergebrochen. Eine Freundin hatte in Beijing die Anfertigung einer überlebensgroßen Terrakottakriegerreplik in Auftrag gegeben. Ab Weihnachten, so der Plan, sollte die Figur den Garten ihrer Mutter in Gelsenkirchen schmücken. Eine schöne Idee. Zweitausend Jahre bürgen aber nicht für zehntausend Kilometer. Und die Reise nach Deutschland überstand der Krieger denn auch nicht, siehe Fotos. Die Menschen aber lassen sich in zweierlei Vernunftwesen einteilen, von denen die einen die Sache so erklären würden: Ein Terrakottakrieger ist nicht für den Einsatz im stehenden Heer entworfen. Er ist vielmehr darauf ausgerichtet, zweitausend Jahre und mehr unter Erdmassen begraben zu liegen und bei endlicher Ausgrabung den Eindruck zu machen, unmittelbar kampfbereit zu sein. – Die andere Vernunftsorte hingegen würde sagen: Ein echter Terrakottakrieger wäre, auch nach weiteren zweitausend Jahren unter der Erde, nach seiner Ausgrabung sogar zu Fuß nach Gelsenkirchen gelaufen, aber die zerbrochene Kopie, die in diesen Tagen in einer Kreuzberger Wohnung von ebenso liebevollen wie geschickten Händen zusammengeklebt wird, bereits am Tag nach dem Begräbnis unter der Last der ersten Humusschicht in Krümel zerfallen wäre.