Berlin, December 21, 1995

He is just experiencing new people, he told to my answering machine. Maybe tonight is the night where he meets someone else. I kind of always have it in mind that it could happen, maybe because he finds it so absurd. If it happens though I will be completely surprised and shocked and in the first moment thinking: how come, how could this happen. I am waiting for it just because I have so little time and am traveling so much. Possibly I will be one of these people sitting in my room or in my dresses at some point and working not really knowing for whom, but working to not have to know for whom. I came home to be able to write. My head is kind of heavy and I feel slightly sick, not really knowing whether my body just wants a break or whether I am really developing a cold. When he is not there I miss him when he is there we get onto each others' nerves. Life is sad sometimes, especially when reality sucks your power out of your veins. My room looks as if the StaSi was here and looked for some material...everything is on top of each other and out. Papers all over. Maybe this is the creative chaos that I need, everywhere some notes, bills, sketches and papers. If everything is spread all over the room on the floor there is at least not this famous mountain on your desk, which means that you don't really know and feel how much you still have to do, you just do what has the most urgent deadline in order to not get completely crazy, being swamped with work. This system of permanent being overwhelmed with work seems to function for me until I am getting completely frustrated because I feel as if I don't get anything done. And here I am getting along with my body soul and spirit until almost everything collapses. System crash but the problem is it fits me well, I still continue looking good and people think well, she can't be sick. So as I don't see a sign I start over again.

Chess is the exclusion of possibilities. I don't know whether it was Karpov or Fischer who said it. I don't care who said it but this sentence keeps following me. I feel that often my strategy is scattered as if I wouldn't have fun to develop one or as if there is none. Then it is almost as if I would collect figures I exchange every time I can and so to say clean up until I am completely bleed out. This is how I work too, I don't make plans and in the end I can be very confused, and I have no pieces to play anymore. Sometimes I use most of the time to make a strategy and then it works, as if I had been able to concentrate focus and then start with all the collected energy and then it worked best, while being completely absorbed. Anyway I think this letter might be boring.