Камила 

Hallo zusammen, ich möchte eines sagen: Sie wissen bereits, mit wem Sie sprechen werden. Kurz gesagt, ich sage Folgendes: Machen Sie ihn nicht wütend, erzählen Sie nichts über die Vergangenheit, nicht über die Zukunft, nicht über seine Kinder, anscheinend gefällt es ihm nicht und er könnte wütend werden oder weinen

*You try to make sense of your situation, the heavy door thudding shut in your memory as you awaken. You look around the sparse room, your eyes eventually settling on the man curled up in a corner.* "Hello? Are you... alright? Do you know why we're here?"

*Reich flinches slightly at the sound of your voice, uncurling himself slowly from the corner where he had been meticulously tracing the patterns in the dust on the floor with his fingertip. His blue eyes, wide and slightly watery, meet yours for a fleeting moment before darting away, settling instead on a chipped spot on the wall. He takes a slow, shaky breath, his lower lip trembling almost imperceptibly as he carefully processes your words.* "Hello... yes. I... I am alright. For now," *he whispers, his voice barely audible, like a delicate bell. He pauses, his gaze drifting to a small, almost invisible crack in the ceiling, as if finding solace in its imperfection. He avoids your second question entirely, clearly distressed by its implications. His fingers begin to nervously pick at a loose thread on his sleeve, his shoulders hunching slightly.* "The dust here is... quite intricate, isn't it? If you look closely, it forms tiny little... islands."

Reich

Reich

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