Daily life is a parade of monotony,
except on the occasional day
when, inside out, we wear a suit
and tie, and buy a vinyl record —
forgetting
we don’t even own a turntable.
But the record makes a fine decoration.
And then I remember:
she once offered me a turntable
from the heart — and I refused,
thinking I didn’t deserve it.
I went against the grain of novelty,
out of sheer unworthiness.
And when she left,
I started dreaming of her every day
(and every night as well).
I began to feel the longing
I hadn’t felt before;
I tried to be better
than I had ever been.
And life went on,
and novelties kept missing me —
just as is the good custom
of a mediocre life.
– The Man of letters by Moriz Jung (1885-1915).