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Cloudburst 40 Alfred’s Admirer The shadow of a manatee with enormous eyes threatens me from over on the wall; when I approach, it becomes even more monstrous. I huddle under the blanket, trying in vain to lessen the terror I feel. I toss and turn in the bed. I strain to listen to a far-off siren; for the first time I envy the victim of the accident. He isn’t suffering the horrible torture of being trampled by those swollen legs and those horns, at first so diminutive, but that now take on the shape of enormous half-moons. And then there’s the tail: whipping ever so swiftly from side to side. Imagining a blow from that tail causes a pre-emptive pain. A few drops of sweat run down my temples. I want to speak but I can’t. I feel powerless, as though lead were slowly dripping onto me. So I scream, I know I scream, with great force, savagely, as if the finale of my martyrdom depended on it, but . . . I’m alone with the silence. I hear nothing that might be human, only a great struggle accompanied by a nostalgic bellow. It’s the manatee swimming off. It grows distant in the dark ocean of dreams. Translated by Susan Cruess ...

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