Short Stories in Cultural History

March 9, 2018

Disziplin und ihre Widerstände (after Anna Bromley)

I invite W. for dinner at Markthalle in Kreuzberg and make a reservation. W. enters the Markthalle at Engelbecken and tells the waiter the name of the reservation. “Aha,” she says and disappears shortly into the kitchen, then to reappear and bring him to a big table. A few minutes later W. gets a phone call by me. “Where are you?’ I ask. Turns out that there’re two Markthallen in Kreuzberg.  

“Flamenco in China - Können Sie das mal eingeben?” an elderly man asks the librarian with a loud voice. She helps him with his search trying out several search systems - all of it audible in at least ten meters distance. After about fifteen minutes searching for Chinese Flamenco the man finally resigns. 

My neighbour is making notes in tiny handwriting with a small library pencil. I’m curious. The book he’s taking notes from is titled Tools but the book itself is written in German. In the 21st century, “tools” can be about two things: something mental or something to do with the internet. I ask my neighbor if he’s learning German. “I know already German,” he replies, but writing makes him remember what he reads. Handwriting is no longer a thing people do, he acknowledges, but according to him that’s just a question of time (eine Zeitfrage) before it comes back. “Handwriting is not dependent on electricity and yours is,” he smiles while pointing at my laptop. 

I invite W. for dinner at Markthalle in Kreuzberg and make a reservation. W. enters the Markthalle at Engelbecken and tells the waiter the name of the reservation. “Aha,” she says and disappears shortly into the kitchen, then to reappear and bring him to a big table. A few minutes later W. gets a phone call by me. “Where are you?’ I ask. Turns out that there’re two Markthallen in Kreuzberg.   “Flamenco in China - Können Sie das mal eingeben?” an …
Disziplin und ihre Widerstände (after Anna Bromley)

I invite W. for dinner at Markthalle in Kreuzberg and make a reservation. W. enters the Markthalle at Engelbecken and tells the waiter the name of the reservation. “Aha,” she says and disappears shortly into the kitchen, then to reappear and bring him to a big table. A few minutes later W. gets a phone call by me. “Where are you?’ I ask. Turns out that there’re two Markthallen in Kreuzberg.  

“Flamenco in China - Können Sie das mal eingeben?” an elderly man asks the librarian with a loud voice. She helps him with his search trying out several search systems - all of it audible in at least ten meters distance. After about fifteen minutes searching for Chinese Flamenco the man finally resigns. 

My neighbour is making notes in tiny handwriting with a small library pencil. I’m curious. The book he’s taking notes from is titled Tools but the book itself is written in German. In the 21st century, “tools” can be about two things: something mental or something to do with the internet. I ask my neighbor if he’s learning German. “I know already German,” he replies, but writing makes him remember what he reads. Handwriting is no longer a thing people do, he acknowledges, but according to him that’s just a question of time (eine Zeitfrage) before it comes back. “Handwriting is not dependent on electricity and yours is,” he smiles while pointing at my laptop. 

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