Free The Journey by H. G. Adler

perfectly servile, the heroes are pleased. Each wanders from home to home and no longer needs a doormat. The doormats of yesterday are the men of today.
    Paul has to give Zerlina a shove in order to keep her moving. “It’s dangerous to move so slow. Be careful!”
    “I’m going.”
    “It’s dangerous to talk. Be careful!”
    “I didn’t say anything.”
    If you keep your head lowered you see the path better. Ahead of you are feet that also dance without music. The ground is muddy, versus in town where the snow is always swept away and salt is strewn around, while here everything is turned into complete muck. The street sweepers are a useless bunch. If they were sent into the mountains, they would soon be stripped of the illusion that everything must be swept away. For nothing can be. The mud stains never disappear and spread everywhere in town and cause difficulty only for those who carelessly slog through them. Anyone who does not keep his vulnerability wrapped up inside only reveals that he has been pampered too much. People make the mistake of living too closely together. Therefore it’s good to be expelled. When you are homeless, there is no resting place. There is only snow and eternal winter. You should come along so that you can experience eternal winter, way off where there is no way out, where no one is even by your side. There youhave only your bread bag with you, but supplies are low and as spare as the good-byes you were given when you were banished and others turned away from you with tears in their eyes and snow. And there you stand, empty, trembling, and faint, even though the region has been free of wild animals for centuries. There are no more wolves or bears. Only small animals that flee from you as soon as they catch your scent. Your pockets are empty, and you are hungry. The snowfields through which you wander aimlessly stretch out endlessly in front of you, there being no map to show you the way.
    You should give in to the circumstances and play the fool. It’s good that you can be laughed at. The old and the weak will leave you in the lurch and run off. You all are nothing more than wild animals. Do you remember that you were once human beings? The gaze of Cross-Eyes meets you at the corner. You’re lucky that, because of the frosty cold, he can no longer swing the whip that has frozen into an icicle. He’s just glad he can lean on it. He can no longer make any reports and must leave behind Frau Lischka’s drunken husband. One day soon she will yank the whip from his withered hand and say that she alone is permitted to sweep away such loneliness. Then you all would be rid of the pest and could confidently dedicate yourself to the belief that if you encounter someone or knock on the door of a mountain hut, behind it will be someone friendly. But you won’t be able to say who you are, otherwise they will chase you down the slope and their laughter will crush you. Given the circumstances, they will say they cannot burden themselves with worrying about the needs of a bunch of people on a pleasure trip. If they should ask you your name and origins, tell them you have forgotten everything. If they do not believe you, then explain that your name has been erased, for you no longer really exist. But since you really are standing there in front of them, they won’t think that you are a ghost, but rather a refugee no longer forced to remain in the stuffy air of the museum. If they should extend a bit of something to eat, which you take, that will say much more than anything you can say.
    But then you must flee. Don’t stop, for they will be on your trail and will make sure there is no place where your name can be spoken. Don’t flee from the night! Think of yourselves as born from darkness, that what now hangs over you is the need for a light within the darkness, something thatearlier was your role to maintain. Fear is piteous, but it spurs no forgiveness, for it spreads terror. The miserable are