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My eyes swim from so much blonde hair, girls in blue
blouses. My head starts to spin. A strange taste invades my
lungs, the scent of ozone – what does ozone smell like
anyway? – at least that's what I tell myself now as I try to
grasp something more, a greater meaning and importance
held in those last few moments.
And the question I add to all this today: why didn't anybody
call out to us, tell us to come back? So many secrets in such
a short time, in the seconds before I fainted for no good
reason.
“From exhaustion and too much running,” as the Pioneer
camp doctor dryly declared afterwards. Okay – before I
dropped from exhaustion into the soft blades of the tall
grass. Before the kaleidoscopic reflections of the girls'
ghostly silhouettes accumulated into a single body.
The sky above my head widened, filled my eyes and I fell
into it, I fell into the rain, into something huge and blue,
not black like they usually say the color of collapse is.
“From exhaustion and too much running,” repeats the
doctor and gives me an injection in the arm.
“No” – I feel like shouting – but my voice slips into
weightlessness at the edge of my throat.