Gilgi Read Online Free PDF Page B

this is her. Gilgi holds fast to the bunch of mimosa and starts talking: yes, she heard about Fräulein Täschler, Fräulein Täschler was recommended to her, now she wants Fräulein Täschler to sew something for her, a dress with a little jacket, and she has brought the material along with her.
    This is her. She’s skinny and dried-up, and she has no face at all, she’s lost it. She’s got a bathing cap, a light-colored bathing cap on her head, with yellow-gray strands of hair protruding from it over her forehead. “I got the cap on ’cos of my headaches, I got a cold compress underneath.” And Gilgi recommends aspirin and examines the fashion magazines that the witch-like fingers spread out in front of her. It’s impossible to look up, it’s impossible to look at a woman who has no face! Pan with fried potatoesstuck on, lady without internal organs, grubby bed, stink compounded of rancid margarine, damp walls, and rotten floorboards.
Elegant World
, Special Beauty Issue: the beautiful grandmother writes to her granddaughter: Carnival, oh, in my day it was still such fun and so delightful, the men always crowded around me even at masked balls, because they could still see my beautiful complexion (using Pfeilring’s products was the secret) … Miss Germany 1931 … “you coulda won the title just as well, Frollein!” And the head with the bathing cap laughs, but the laughter isn’t genuine, it’s a lie. And the head bends down, and now it’s right next to Gilgi’s … I can’t stand the smell anymore, I have to light a cigarette.
    The light’s bad, you can’t see anything properly, how can she sew here! The non-face has red eyes, those aren’t eyes, they’re inflamed lids, and they hurt. The beautiful grandmother writes to her granddaughter … You, you, you—why do you put up with it? Why are you living here, why is this your life? If you’re satisfied, someone should strangle you!
    A gramophone is playing next door: Drink, drink, brother mine, drink … Why are you satisfied?—Leave all your troubles at home … Why? Drink, drink …
    Accepted it, accepted it—I don’t know anything different—I only know the song about the gray-lit hours—Is there anything that’s worth the effort?
    Gilgi offers Fräulein Täschler a cigarette. Unexpectedly, she takes it, leans against the bedpost, puffs away like a woman of the world, has a bathing cap on because of her headaches, has a wrinkled, dried-up body and no face. A crucifix hangs above the bed.
    Gilgi’s measurements are taken. Bust, waist, height.When the wrinkled fingers fumble at her waist and the noxious breath wafts into her face, she becomes as gray and pale as the greasy hand-towel beside the washstand.
    She could leave, but she doesn’t want to. She starts a conversation with Fräulein Täschler. Fräulein Täschler is pleased to have someone to talk to. And she’ll do well out of it, she’ll charge twenty marks for the dress. Why shouldn’t she be lucky for once and get some classy clients, some good payers? She’ll decorate the seam on the jacket, that always looks nice. Before, the Frollein told her not to—but that doesn’t matter. For her, decorative seams are a kind of article of faith, she won’t give them up so easily.… Scorn all your worries and scorn all your woes / Your life will become … I can’t stand it here anymore—“Fräulein Täschler, wouldn’t you like to have dinner with me in the bar on the corner? We’re having such a nice chat, and I don’t feel like going home yet.”
    Surely that will make her think. Something’s going on, something’s not right! But of course she’ll accept, only—she takes care to speak elegantly: “Yerse, but someone like me can’t afford to dine out in the evening.”
    “You’ll be my guest, Fräulein Täschler.” That’s what she wanted to hear. She snatches the bathing cap and the compress from her head in one go. She fusses around for a good ten