The hands lie quite still on the table, forming a squat diamond space with the thumbs pressed together towards the body and all the fingers touching like a cathedral roof. It closes the circuit you see so that no one can get at you. Come down into one world Liebes, decide between belief and disbelief, between loving and not loving, you have passed the age of adventure now, what, thirty-four, forty-three?
A woman of uncertain age uncertain loyalties holding her hands quite still with all the fingers touching to keep the résistivité électrique en Ohms and battericamente pura within and not give out too generously with a flow of rash enthusiasm above the blue tablecloth full of darker blue towers cathedrals domes palaces in rows and WIEN repeated at intervals with the plump prancing Carolus der VII in il piccolo chalet which remains a pied-à-terre for half the feet of that four-legged creature called an entity of bodies made one by the Sacrament of Marriage one foot à terre the other in the grave perhaps. Oh come off it, come down into one world und so weiter weiter gehen, immer geradeaus dann links in the smattering of the mouthpiece ears hands and eyes suddenly confronted however with TARTSD A PÉNZED A TAKARÉKPÉNZTÁRBAN in bright neon lights beyond the nylon curtain that floats behind the head down the shoulders to the floor. Of course some people may suffer while we build a new society but would you rather not have the new society? The delegates have registered their formal protests about the cardinal or the five writers still imprisoned in among the junketings, the congressional banquet and the sight-seeing tour around Lake Balaton. Down in the dimlit and deserted street footsteps walk in Hungarian slowly along the dark façade still pockmarked by machine-gun fire below the sign ELÖNYÖS! KÉNYELMES! BIZTONSÁGOS! Do you agree? Or did you want to test by means of engagement? Push. Tirez. Pchnąć. Ziehen. Have you Greek dialogues? Have you tea? I should like some milk together. I prefer it double-breasted. With two buttons. Without folding-up. I want narrow trousers. When shall I come for the rehearsal? In six days I go away.
Ici on parle français.
Zut alors says Siegfried grown slightly bald somewhere between New York and Reykjavik with a paunch pahr dessue le marshy. Pupate? Pupate? Que cherchez-vous madame, ah, l’ascenseur. Oh mademoiselle, they have not blossomed yet, the season has not yet come. Achten Sie auf den Original-verschluss. Heil-und-Tafelwasser. Das österreichische PREBLAUER. Sauerbrunn. Please do not throw into W.C. because one day the man will come and lift you out of your self-containment or absorption rising into the night above the wing par à quelle aile j’vois pas d’aile moi only a red light winking on and off in the blackness below but not passing away as the body of the plane bumps on the steps of air for the descent into bright lights and twinkling signals, roar and whistle of jets with undercarriage down, strong tension of brakes to a tame taxying up the tarmac until you come to a standstill somewhere beneath a Regency piece of London, on the Piccadilly Line alone in a crowd of Evening Standards lowered here and there as the long silent stop creates a slight anxiety in eyes that stare at advertisements to avoid each other in the bowels of the earth or vanish again behind a crinkle of sporting page loud in the lit up silence. Katina says Favourable day for whatever you want to do. In the evening you will have the opportunity to meet someone whose influence may further your interests. Then at last a distant rumble grows more distant and a clank lurches the carriage forward to a slow start, producing a faint sensation of relief that spreads through the body of the train slightly animating the chromosomes as if inside a long long centipede.
Emerging from Avernus made easy with escalators. They also go down. Saying ΠAPAKAΛΩ ANAMENETE, the button lighting up when pressed to call the lift, inside which incomprehensibly below 
come blank white buttons with IΣOΓEION and ΣTON and KINΔYNOΣ in red meaning perhaps alarm? Na says the old porter at the rez-de-chaussée not fortunately sous-sol, shaking his head vigorously to mean yes, as ohi and a nod means no in Greek. Gut-gut, kalo-kalo?
— Nai. Kalo-kalo. Adio, efharisto.
— Parakalo. Bye-bye Frau, welgohome.
— Man denkt in Deutsch wann man in Deutschland lebt.
— Auf Deutsch darling.
— Und since man spricht sehr little Deutsch unlike my clever sweet half born and bred on Pumpernickel, man denkt in eine kind of erronish Deutsch das springt zu life feel besser than echt Deutsch. Und even wenn man thinks AUF Deutsch wann man in Deutschland lives, then acquires it a broken up quality, die hat der charm of my clever sweet, meine deutsche mädchen-goddess, the gestures and the actions all postponed while first die Dinge und die Personen kommen. As if languages loved each other behind their own façades, despite alles was man denkt darüber davon dazu. As if words fraternised silently beneath the syntax, finding each other funny and delicious in a Misch-Masch of tender fornication, inside the bombed out hallowed structures and the rigid steel glass modern edifices of the brain. Du, do you love me? Du, dein Bein dein Brust dein belly oh Christ in Rothenburg gem-city between the sheet and the tumbled sheeted eiderdown amid the central heating and the wooden panelling. Man works with hands light brush-stroke size over the rectangles of agriculture bearing plants or parts of plants forest blobs metallic lakes thin white lines man feels as an abstract study in seduction man performs with the precision of the mouthpiece eyes voice hands over limbs that find each other delicious on a creaking bed somewhere along the Romantische Strasse in a Misch-Masch of swift fornication between a hallowed structure and the rigid virginal edifice crashing down the runway with a scream of jets and strong tension of brakes to a tame taxying up the tarmac guided by some other distant brain in a glass booth and small white frogs with yellow discs for eyes and a splash of blood until it comes to a standstill du, do you love me, du? Do si la sol fa mi ré do, do la fa ré, si sol mi do peals in crash-permutations through the belfry of the distant brain way up from across the greenish drizzle and Great Scott du, my sweet, my fleissige, for God’s sake make us coffee we’ve had enough of fornication on this late Sunday morning. Tout de suite and the tooter the sweeter.
Man sagt, man banters man makes love, rising to the occasion at all hours, man never says man loves except dein Bein dein Brust und dein damn medal of St. Christopher between ’em, or at most did you like it hat’s geschmeckt despite the lil’ ole Dutch cap or hats geschmeckt oh du my clever sweet my fleissige my deutsche mädchen-goddess for Chrissake make us some coffee what, a Ding no Dea does? Ah, du witzige sweet SCREAM why what’s the matter?
— Spinne! Eine Spinne! Im Bad!
— What?
— Please! Come quickly!
— Oh hell. Now what?
— What you call it? Take it away, please, take it away.
— My dear good girl. Only a spider. A beneficent spider. There, gone, out of the window.
— Oh. Oh, thank-you.
— Why, you look pale as a sheet. For heaven’s sake, screaming at a spider, the spinner of fates, a Ding no Dea does, did Athene scream at Arachne? Well, yes she did I suppose but not from fear, from jealousy and anger. There there, calm down my sweet, it brings luck you know.
— Araignée du matin, chagrin.
— But araignée du soir, espoir. Come let’s pretend the evening has returned, ah du, dein Brust und so weiter or else don’t you think lechería for milk-shop opening the shutters on la Calle de San Antonio in Madrid looks exquisite to an English eye? Unless in Cordova don’t you think these plaster images all round in shrines and this monstrous Renaissance chapel plonked in the middle of the mosque with its calm forest of columns look positively obscene? E allora, what methods did you use?