I have no soul, nobody here does – it’s all just work in this large office. Where millionaires live the good life, always in some foreign country or other, there is likewise work, and likewise no soul. And all that will remain is one or another poet. If only a phrase of mine could remain, just one thing I’ve written that would make people say ‘Well done!’, like the numbers I register, copying them in the book of my entire life.
