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  • It was not “in her head” as my friend and one of her best friends supposed a week ago: the day after my encounters with chatterboxes, Susan died. She died of cancerous tumors in her spine. She did not live another 20 years. Even though Susan and I were no close friends, I am impressed. She was a character here in town, she was absolutely fearless like when she chased the invaders away from her house just with her praying sable or when she tied herself to a tree so that they could not fell it for a while (until they had untied her).

    Later I eat with Barbara, yes the German friend, whose mother is gone with Alzheimer’s disease and her Dad is dying of Liver Cancer. Monday she will fly to Germany. Yesterday she invited us to eat and baked a wonderful cheese cake with poppy seeds. Just in a café in Swakopmund, Namibia, have I had such a good German Cheese Cake. When she brings me to the gate to say good - bye, she cries. She loves her Dad dearly. "When he dies, he will also liberate me," she sobs," I am nearly losing my husband for spending half the year with my Dad in Germany, when he dies, I can maybe save my marriage!"

    I feel a bit like this with Ulaí, my daughter - in - law, who 3 months ago hung herself, because she could not live with her paranoia anymore. "Ulaí also liberated me with her death," I say," And whenever I feel that, I feel guilty and it is just true like that: I feels sad and guilty and liberated."

    I go and sit with a girl from a big Mexican city in the north. She hardly ever looks at me, her voice is low and fast, often I cannot follow and have to stop her with more questions.

    “Since I can remember," she hurries along," My Dad has beaten me up. Not my Mom, not my brother, but me. Last summer he beat me so badly, because I flunked and exam, that I had to be sent to hospital. No, I will not accuse him. No, I sacrifice myself. He had a terrible childhood, I understand where his violence comes from, I hope that one day the miracle will happen and he will change. If I leave the house - like now when I am here with my aunts - I am afraid he will begin and beat my Mom and brother. But after last summer I changed. I started drugging myself together with my boy - friend. I started eating compulsively and just sugar and the sweetest stuff. No, I cannot look at myself in the mirror, I feel disgust with myself, I can love others, whenever I can give some happiness to a person I feel full, but I cannot love myself. A couple of months ago my girl – friend died. She was a lot like me and always obeyed her boy - friend and let him beat her up. Afterwards she was oaky with the beatings, because he is from a rich family and would buy her all kinds of stuff. Well, she got pregnant from him and wanted that baby and he did not and so he went with two of his buddies and they raped and strangled and cut her to pieces......."

    I am sitting there in front of her, frozen; I do not want to believe my ears.

    “When I saw all my friend´s family cry because of her death I understood that like this my family would cry over me and since then I have not taken any drugs anymore, I have broken up with my boy - friend and now I am here to maybe find myself a little...."

    I cannot tell you how heavy I feel after listening to this girl. At home I am desperate. I call my two grandsons and we prepare Chocolate Mousse: you take 4 cups of milk, 2 cups of cream, 6 big spoonfuls of sugar, some cinnamon, cocoa, two bars of dark (Swiss!!!) chocolate of 100gr each, if you want you can also mingle some ginger, orange peel or coffee powder in. Boil it all and when it boils throw three little bags of Gelatin in. Let cool. Whip another 2 cups of cream and put a bit of that on top.
    EAT. EAT!!!!!
    I did. Last night as soon as the stuff was hard enough. Compulsively I devoured the sweet softness, caressing my mouth, my tongue and my throat, but later clogging my stomach and my conscience. The gynecologist told me 2 days ago: "Don´t eat much fat. Fat makes cysts grow!"

    Well can you imagine what I had for breakfast right now?

    Yes, Jean - Claude, and right in time, I find your question: What if Death was an ocean of Swiss chocolate?

    What if? I am with you in this!

    Art by Kiki

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