at the hairdresser

Schnipp-Schnapp, die Haare fallen auf den Boden. Sie wird zu einem anderen Menschen. Dazwischen Wortfetzen. Vorbei. Sie geht. Auf dem Boden die toten Haare. Irgendwann wird auch er dort liegen. Herzinfakt. Aber nicht heute. Die Tür geht auf. Nächste Kundin. Nächstes Leben.


While cutting her hair, there’s time to watch her face. How it changes within every second. Lost self-confidence returning. On the floor, dead strands of hair form a long dead hairstyle. And then she’s ready, having transformed from Miss Grey to red-flaming Mrs. Grey within two hours. Sometimes he feels himself to be a doctor rather to be a hairdresser.

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