The Compendium of Degenerates – part 4

compendiumWhere do you want to go?
I’d like to go to Salem, or Timbuctoo, or Atlantis; you choose…
Otmar and Ottilie, eastwards they go.
If it were another century, perhaps not so fortunately, but today there are no wars, no Mamelukes or the Khanate of the Golden Horde moving across to meet them.
Brigands? No, not even these, the times have been ethicised; they are entirely safe.
Eastwards in search of a better existence, and Ottilie soon decides she cannot walk, so, the hedgerowed lanes abandoned, a train it becomes. At three in the morning on a bench outside the station, stretched out yet still uncomfortable, damp in the bones, waiting for the station doors to be opened, and for something to arrive. The station being Wilhelmsdorf or similar.
Perhaps a journey to arrive at fortune. That, Otmar can envision. Then no impediment to Ottilie becoming a queen and he a pasha:
—Bring up the most expensive wine of my cellar.
—Have the man face the ultimate judgement.
She is quite rotund, with a red face and a tendency to shout quite loudly, often. But with surprisingly slim wrists and ankles. He has not previously listed her as a possible sexual partner, more keen on the woman from Schwandorf.
A nightjar tweeted on, incessantly,
He continued to sneak the odd glance,
Slowly, like the measured dip of oar from the royal barge, more stately she became.
They had little money; they were tolerably young and in love. Better be Berlin then.
So this was his life’s meaning.

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