Like a weasel in the night I sneaked into the fishmonger's hovel. I blundered about between barrels and baskets in the pitch-black dark feeling like Jonah trapped within the abominable whale. Finally I reached out, opened the greasy curtain behind the counter and entered the stinky little room...

...if there is a memory in my life I want to get lost into the oblivion for good, any thing I try to drown into another glass of whiskey every night - well, that was definitely things I saw back in this goddamn hiding place. A butcher knife stuck in the cutting table... Pools of blood... Severed fish tails... only these didn't belong to fishes for sure. And then in the back, these poor creatures.

I came well late. The one hanging in the fisherman net was breathless for the days. Another one in a tub was still alive. She stared at me with her hollow unseeing eyes. Her lips were moving but no sound came. She looked like a fish out of water - and goddamn she was. Still I got the feeling I traced the wrong trail...

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