The Artificial Silk Girl by Irmgard Keun Page A

there’s a silence and a steamy humidity and the gray wall in front of the window. All that is falling right on top of us. I’m sitting there powdering my face becauseof his hands. And I’m fixing my lipstick. But he can’t tell when I look beautiful. I offer him Berlin, which is resting in my lap.
    And he asks me: “Dear voice of a folk song, where did you go today?”
    “I was on
Kurfürstendamm.”
    “What did you see?”
    And I must have seen lots of colors there: “I saw — men standing at corners selling perfume, without a coat and a pert face and a gray cap on — and posters with naked and rosy girls on them and nobody looking at them — a restaurant with more chrome than an operating room — they even have oysters there — and famous photographers with photos in showcases displaying enormous people without any beauty. And sometimes with.”
    A cockroach is crawling around — is it always the same one? — and there’s no air in the apartment — let’s smoke a cigarette —
    “What did you see?”
    “I saw — a man with a sign around his neck, “I will accept any work” with “any” underlined three times in red — and a spiteful mouth, the corners of which were drawn increasingly down — and when a woman gave him ten pfennigs, they were yellow and he rolled them on the pavement in which they were reflected because of the cinemas and nightclubs.”
    “What else do you see, what else?”
    “I see — swirling lights with lightbulbs right next to each other — women without veils with hair blown into their faces. That’s the new hairstyle — it’s called ‘windblown’ — and the corners of their mouths are like actresses before they take on a big role and black furs and fancy gowns underneath — and shiny eyes — and they are either a black drama or a blonde cinema. Cinemas are primarily blonde — I’m moving right along with them with my fur that is so gray and soft — and my feet are racing, my skin is turning pink, the air is chilly and the lights are hot — I’m looking, I’m looking — my eyes are expecting the impossible — I’m dying to eat something wonderful like a rumpsteak, brown and with white horseradish and pommes frites. Those are elongated homefries — and sometimes I love food so much that I just want to grab it with my hands and bite into it, and not have to eat with forks and knives — ”
    “What else do you see, what else do you see?”
    “I see myself — mirrored in windows and when I do, I like the way I look and then I look at men that look back at me — and black coats and dark blue and a lot of disdain in their faces — that’s so important — and I see — there’s the Memorial Church with turrets that look like oyster shells — I know how to eat oysters, very elegant — the sky is a pink gold when it’s foggy out — it’s pushing me toward it — but you can’t get near it because of the cars — and in the middle of all this, there’s a red carpet,because there was one of those dumb weddings this afternoon — the
Gloria Palast
is shimmering — it’s a castle, a castle — but really it’s a movie theater and a café and Berlin W — the church is surrounded by black iron chains — and across the street from it is the
Romanisches Café
with long-haired men! And one night, I passed an evening there with the intellectual elite, which means ‘selection,’ as every educated individuality knows from doing crossword puzzles. And we all form a circle. But really the
Romanisches Café
is unacceptable. And they all say: ‘My God, that dive with those degenerate literary types. We should stop going there.’ And then they all go there after all. It was very educational for me, and like learning a foreign language.
    “And nobody has much money there, but they’re alive and part of the elite and instead of having money they play chess, which is a checkered board with black and blonde squares. They have kings too. And ladies. And it