Diary of a Shadowless Man E-Book

Ilka Hoffmann

• Herausgeber: LiteraturPlanet
• Kategorie: Gesellschafts- und Liebesromane
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

Theo C. can’t believe it at first: he has lost his shadow! How is he supposed to go on living now? After all, a person without a shadow will cause offence everywhere! So the offer of a company for replacement shadows comes just at the right time. But can he trust the obscure shadow dealer? „The light took note of the shoe cupboard, the pair of rubber boots in front of it, even of my old trench coat, which had been hanging untouched next the door since last winter. Only I was left out, as if my appearance was an embarrassing oversight that had to be concealed from the world.“

Leseprobe

Ilka Hoffmann

Diary of a Shadowless Man

Part I: The Shadow Loss

LiteraturPlanet

Imprint

© LiteraturPlanet, 2021

Im Borresch 14

D-66606 St. Wendel

Germany

www.literaturplanet.de

Cover picture: Pierre Bonnard (1867 – 1947): Self portrait in front of a shaving mirror (Wikimedia commons)

About the author:

Ilka Hoffmann, born in 1964, is in charge of the website at LiteraturPlanet and organises the trade fair presentations. She lives alternately in St. Wendel and in Frankfurt am Main, where she works as a trade unionist. As an educational scientist, she also regularly publishes articles on pedagogical issues. One of the main topics she focuses on, both in her publications and in her trade union work, is the problem of social exclusion. The Diary of a Shadowless Man is her second publication with LiteraturPlanet. It is a revised and expanded edition of the first part of her novel Der Schattenhändler (The Shadow Dealer), released by our publishing house in 2008.

The Dismissal

Saturday, July 1

Today I received the notice of termination. At first, I thought it was an advertisement, because the new English name of the company was printed on the envelope: SOS – Safety • Order • Security. International Insurance Company. Sounds kind of silly, but if you want to operate worldwide, you probably can't avoid such name games.

Of course, the dismissal was agreed with me – but it hit me anyway. I wonder if they deliberately delivered it to me on a Saturday of all days. So the recipient is practically forced to calm down before possibly taking measures against the decision. But in fact they probably don't care.

If only I had someone to talk to about the whole thing! I need to think it all over again, but I just can't get anywhere on my own. For this, I simply lack the distance to what I have experienced. On the other hand, I also shy away from revealing myself to others in my nakedness – at least that's how I feel about my condition.

So for now, the computer is my only counterpart – a somewhat one-sided communication, even if the mute monitor might be a pretty good father confessor.

But if I am honest, I have to admit that this form of self-reflection is not only no help to me, but rather increases my feelings of helplessness. I can hardly stand the blinking of the cursor. It reminds me of the heartbeat, at night, when you wake up from a nightmare and initially mistake your own heartbeat for the sound of approaching footsteps. I should stop doing that – it's no use after all.

Saturday, July 1, evening

Now it has proven worthwhile after all that I decided to save my words this morning. At least it's a start, and now that I won't be doing any regular work, maybe typing on the computer every day can give my days some sort of rhythm. Of course, it remains questionable whether this will lead to anything – but it's worth a try.

Today I frittered away much of the day completely pointlessly. I can hardly remember what I have done. So how will I be able to reconstruct this whole story, which goes back much further into the past?  Maybe I should take some notes first. Then I could also escape this annoying blinking of the cursor for a while.

Shadowless Days

Monday, July 3

Went to the office to pick up my things. True, the termination agreement is dated for the end of the month – but what would have been good about taking full advantage of the deadline? This way, I made the termination at least a little bit my own business.

The colleagues still look at me as if they were noticing my "nakedness" for the first time. But did I expect anything else? Probably they really perceive me as naked, and that's just something you can't get used to in our culture. After all, if someone belonging to a jungle people would go hunting in a business suit, that wouldn't be socially acceptable as well.

Since I can hardly do anything about my situation myself, it would possibly be best to openly admit to it – to walk straight through the middle of the room where the floods of light, created by all the ergonomic lighting equipment, are strongest, without caring about the looks of the others. The unusual could become a hero's attribute if I wore the taint like a badge of honour.

But I just don't have the strength to do that. I prefer to take detours and sneak as close as possible past walls and corners where my nakedness is not immediately noticeable. After all, for me too, my condition is like an open wound. It is precisely its essential characteristic that I feel like being at the mercy of an unpredictable destiny.

Whoever wants to transform a taint into a distinction needs a certain pleasure in provocation. But if you experience the blemish yourself as a deficiency of your personality, such a reinterpretation can never succeed. Instead, the others feel confirmed in their negative attitude, which in turn has a corresponding effect on yourself – a vicious circle.

Monday, July 3, evening

My first day as an unemployed person. Actually, I should go to the job center tomorrow, but I'd rather wait until the next rainy day. Of course, this is basically senseless, because the light inside the rooms will then probably be even more glaring than it is now. Nevertheless, I somehow feel safer when it's dark outside – and that's not at all unimportant when going to the authorities.

In the meantime, I have also taken a few notes. This made me realise that I know almost nothing about the night when everything started.  Or rather, that everything seems like a dream to me. The details – on which everything depends if I want to get clear about what happened to me – are like blown away. The streets, the girl, the river – everything looks like a surrealist painting, and I myself move through it like a stranger thrown into it by the obscure logic of a dream. I will probably have to schedule a few "site visits" in order to make progress with my reconstructions.

Remembrance Work

Saturday, July 8

Once you open the floodgates of memory, it is as if you are literally inundated with your own recollections. At first they seep into your mind very slowly, but then their stream suddenly swells so powerfully that you can hardly control them. So I should finally try to form them in order not to drown in them.

But what if the memories become even more unbearable as soon as they have taken shape? Does the shipwrecked sailor feel better when he recognizes that what he took for ships on the horizon are in fact wave towers? And can a substance that is immaterial in its structure be shaped at all?

At least I have not been idle during the week. Wednesday and Friday I was on the road for site inspections. I walked along the routes I must have taken that fateful night, and I measured the time it takes to cover the entire distance. Obviously, everything had happened much faster than it seemed to me in my memory. But given the importance of the events to me, that was to be expected.

I want to use the weekend for further notes. So on Monday I might start my first workweek as a "memory restorer".

Funny that I have the feeling of weekend, although I have no working week at all now ...

By the way, I have finally made it to the job center. On Thursday afternoon – when it rained and even thundered for the first time in weeks – I jumped in at the deep end and registered as unemployed.

It seems to me that my strategy worked to some extent. The lightning, the thunder, the heavy rain – these are simply such manifold sensations that you don't pay attention to every unfamiliar visual appearance. Of course, there was the usual insecurity in the behaviour towards me, but it was all within reason.

I am digressing ... Will I ever be able to not only look at the jungle of the past, but really penetrate it?

Story of a Shadow Loss/1

Monday, July 10

Instead of taking notes, I have spent the whole weekend with all sorts of trivialities – moving things from one place to another, wiping dust that I hadn't even noticed before, sorting old newspapers ...

I flee from myself. I am afraid of feeling the same disgust for myself that drives everyone else away from me. It is the fear of the shot fired at an elastic wall, from where it bounces back at yourself, right into your heart.

But I no longer have the choice. I am alone with myself and have to beware of myself. Either I trigger the shot quite consciously or it will be released without my doing and destroy me from the inside out.

So I better get started.

1. The Company Outing

It all began in the night from November 18 to 19 last year. As part of a company outing, we had visited the neighboring town of Hadderstetten, where – as is customary on such occasions – we stopped off at a pub in the evening to end the day in a cheerful atmosphere. The pub was chosen because one of our colleagues was related to a brother of the landlord. So we could expect to be served with a certain courtesy.

In fact, the evening proceeded to our complete satisfaction. Not only did the vaulted room itself radiate a cozy atmosphere. Additionally, our tables were arranged in such a way that we could easily overlook everything from our corner without feeling pushed to the sidelines. The food was excellent as well, not to mention the carefully selected wine list. We were even allowed to taste the wines before deciding on a particular one.

From an objective point of view, there was nothing extraordinary about the evening. It was the usual end of a company outing, with the somewhat forced cheerfulness at the beginning, which then moves with a certain inevitability towards increasingly lewd jokes and shrill laughter. Nevertheless, for me the evening was something very special. After all, it was the last time I could spend as I was used to, as part of the whole, as one element among many others in a large crowd.

I won't claim that I felt particularly comfortable in my own skin, but even this feeling I probably shared with most of the others. Basically, those with whom we celebrate on such occasions are complete strangers to us. Despite this, everyone makes an effort to give a semblance of voluntariness to the forced company community. Of course, the harmony is only superficial, the whole thing is nothing more than a ritual – but after all, it serves to ensure peace in the workplace and thus facilitates everyday work processes immensely.

Another special thing about the evening was that I finally succeeded in talking to Lina – who was still relatively new to our company at the time. She had already been working in my team for a few weeks, but until then I had never managed to get beyond the usual friendly phrases and lunch break jokes in my conversations with her. The room, only dimly lit by candles and indirect lighting, now fostered a certain confidentiality among each other.

I had felt attracted to Lina as soon as she joined the company. Of course, her physical appearance also played a role in this – her silky black hair and her delicate, vulnerable-looking facial features. For me, however, her attraction was primarily based on her open, outgoing nature, which radiated both a love of life and a certain intellectual curiosity.

Our conversation at the company outing reinforced this impression. What particularly appealed to me was the ease with which we switched from one topic to another, and the open-mindedness with which Lina approached even the most remote questions. With all this, we had a lot to laugh. More and more, the events around us faded into the background. Separated from the others by an invisible wall, we sank into our own world.

In retrospect, it almost seems to me as if the conversation with Lina had somehow influenced the following events.  But probably one thing has nothing to do with the other, and it is pure coincidence that I later got lost in the harbour district.

I wonder where this need to presume special causes and motives behind everything comes from. After all, it doesn't make my fate any easier to bear.

Story of a Shadow Loss/2

Tuesday, July 11

It's a strange feeling to make oneself the hero of one's own story ... I almost have the impression of becoming a stranger to myself. But maybe that's the magic about writing diary: when you look at your own life from a distance, you suddenly notice things that before, entangled in your own ego, you didn't notice.

The whole thing would probably be different if I told the story orally. Then I would be able to avoid some of the twists and turns that are not very flattering for me. But in writing, the barrier of inner censorship doesn't work so well. Here I am my only counterpart, no one builds me a bridge to noncommittal platitudes, behind which all kinds of inconveniences can be so excellently concealed.

So let's get back to the company outing ...

2. November Fog

At the end of the evening, I didn't feel the slightest desire to return to Lumenberg with my colleagues. I knew that there were trains departing from Hadderstetten to Lumenberg late in the evening. So I decided to forego the noisy journey home in the cramped bus and take a short walk through the town. The station was on the other side of the town, beyond the park, so I had to walk a few steps to get there anyway.

Of course, my behaviour was quite out of place. I explained it to my colleagues by saying that I had promised a friend to drop by his place. Fortunately, given the level of alcohol in the company, no one doubted this excusion, which was in fact hardly credible at 11 o'clock at night. When the bus left, I caught a glimpse of Lina, who was perhaps the only one who sensed why I didn't want to get on the bus. Then I set off for the station.

Despite the late hour, I wanted to walk across the dark park and then catch the train. According to my memory, it had to leave around 12. Otherwise, I could have easily taken a taxi from Hadderstetten.

For a November night, the air was exceptionally mild. After the stuffy hours in the pub, it was a pleasure to breathe it in to the full. I walked, as I suspected, straight towards the park, which I thought was at the end of the avenue leading past the pub. The stroll took more time than I had expected, but I didn't worry about that at first. After all, I didn't know my way around Hadderstetten as well as I did around Lumenberg. And couldn't it be that the avenue at night – without the busy traffic and the hustle and bustle in front of the shops – just seemed longer to me than during the day?

Only when I reached the end of the avenue did I realise that I had been walking in the wrong direction. Instead of reaching the park, I found myself on a thoroughfare, behind which the avenue led into the maze of alleys of the harbour district.

I probably should have turned back then or asked one of the few passers-by for the way to the station. I don't know why I did nothing of the sort. Perhaps a kind of defiance prevented me from admitting that I had made a mistake with quite unpleasant consequences at such a late hour. After all, the way to the station was now about twice as long as from the pub. So I would probably miss the train and have to take a taxi. In that case, however, I could just as well look for one in the harbour district.

Without a second thought, I crossed the underpass that connects the avenue and the harbour district. On the other side I just randomly headed for the first alley. In contrast to the avenue, the air here, near the river, seemed damp and heavy. After only a few meters, a dense fog enveloped me, flowing through the night as a weightless stream in the light cones of the street lamps.

Unaware of where I was, I just kept walking straight ahead. At some point I would surely come across a larger square where I could hail a taxi – or so I thought. In fact I must have got lost in the labyrinth of paths pretty soon. Faster and faster the circle of alleys spun around me, tighter and tighter the wall of fog enclosed me, and fewer and fewer passers-by came my way.

These circumstances may also explain the fateful decision I made shortly afterwards. Today, I myself don't understand why at the next crossroads, from which three alleys led off, I didn't choose the middle and largest one. After all, it would have been the most likely to lead out of the labyrinth. Unfortunately, however, I took the alley to my left, from which a reddish glow emanated.

Story of a Shadow Loss/3

Tuesday/Wednesday, July 11/12

The Dark Mountain Village

Midnight ... The feeling as if life is flowing back into itself. No one has a shadow anymore, everything returns home, sheltered by the soft wings of the night.

Of course, these sensations are also related to my current situation. For someone without a shadow, the night is like a cloak of invisibility under which he can hide his true nature. On the other hand, the night has already given me a feeling of security before, a feeling of inner peace and coming to myself.

There is only one single exception that comes to mind. It goes back to a remote mountain village, when I wanted to go back to my hotel from a restaurant late at night. I knew that there were no streetlights in the village. But I had not expected such impenetrable darkness. It was as if God had suddenly grown tired of his creation and had spread a blanket over it so that he would no longer have to see it.

Since there was only one road in the village, the way to the hotel could not be missed. Nevertheless, I felt like an astronaut floating freely in space, with no idea how to find the way back to the spaceship. Rarely have I experienced such relief as I did when the lights of the hotel appeared in front of me.

Why do I think of this just now? Probably because – as strange as it sounds – I felt something similar while wandering around the waterfront of Hadderstetten at night, approaching the red light district.

3. In the Maze of the Red Light District

The red light district as a refuge for a lost wanderer? Today that seems pretty ridiculous to me myself. And yet, when I try to remember the exact moment when I walked towards the reddish shimmering alley, the feeling of a sheltering warmth rises in me.

For the lightly clad ladies standing around in front of the house entrances, I was one of those who could free them from the damp-cool fog for a few minutes. Thus, they tried to attract me in a rather importunate way. By then, at the latest, I should have realised my mistake and turned back. Instead, however, I simply quickened my pace as soon as one of the ladies approached me from the side. So I got deeper and deeper into the alley, until it finally didn't matter whether I went straight ahead or took the way back.

The voices approaching me gradually mixed in my head to a chorus that seemed to obey the same monotonous, shrill rhythm as the twitching neon signs that blinked at me from every other house: "Hey cutie how about us SUPER LIVE SHOW why so alone cutie HERE YOU’LL GET IT do you feel the desire cutie come on STRIPTEASE so alone in twos it's warmer BEST PEEP SHOW cutie do you feel it …"

Suddenly I had the feeling as if someone would fix me from an angle ahead with the eyes.

---ENDE DER LESEPROBE---