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whole school, but Ane, of course, didn’t believe a word.
    After that it was exclusively about pushing limits. At one point the group ingested everything it could get its hands on, everything that could be introduced into the human body with reasonable ease.
    One guy got addicted to some particularly hard stuff, and eventually he was thrown out of the academy for putting the fancy chairs in the banquet hall up for sale on eBay. After he left, the other guys started shooting at themselves with various implements or cutting themselves. Or they had the others cut them while they taped it on video.
    Ane could watch an entire self-torture video to end without blinking, and there was one episode she found especially appealing. It featured Torben sticking a nail in his hand. He did it over and over again, even after he’d made a large, bloody hole.
    â€œI don’t know why,” she said. “I can’t seem to get it out of my head.”
    She considered switching to graphic arts, since she thought it would be fun to be a girl surrounded by that sort of guy. I asked:
    â€œWhat sort of guy?”
    â€œUncompromising,” she said. “Wild.”
    However, then she attended one of the department’s get-togethers and the professor didn’t so much as acknowledge her presence. There were other new students that he questioned about this and that, including their interest in graphics.
    One of the other aspirants had brought along some photographs that he’d taken the liberty of hanging around the room before everyone arrived. The pictures were taken one night when, returning from the city drunk, he’d danced around his bedroom before the camera in a pair of ridiculous underpants. The guy was chubby and pale, anything but a Chippendale, and the harsh flash only made a hapless situation worse. Despite the fact that there were some really raw pictures, and much was said about loneliness, self-exposure, and sex, the professor failed to see the quality in them. The guy, who was as deft at clarifying his work as he was at being his work, couldn’t make any headway. It was unbearable, Ane thought.
    At first Torben wasn’t particularly interested in Ane, who bustled around in her rather overlarge smock and talked shop. However, his indifference, which persisted even after our Berlin trip, actually attracted her. He didn’t want to tie himself down, she said, and you know, she liked that. It was only following the Christmas party during our second year that she seriously managed to pin him down.
    Some girls from one of the painting departments had transformed the party’s setting into a three-dimensional work of art. Cheeses hung against a black wall like pock-marked planets. Torben got extremely drunk after bragging that he could down a flask of schnapps in less than half an hour. In the middle of an anthem he fell off the table and split his chin.
    Later he tried kicking out the DJ because he thought she was playing shit music, but before he could accomplish the task, a pair of the DJ’s friends came along and threw him out instead. They dragged him out the door and down to the plaza and only let him go when they’d gotten quite far away from the party. When he made his way back to the academy, Ane was there to collect him. She found him in the courtyard and put him in a taxi and and took him back to her place. Right after that he moved in with her.

H e’s wanted to pulverize her from the beginning, to move in and force her out. I’m not just imagining it. Perhaps he doesn’t even know it. But I’m certain. Eventually, it’ll become clear. He’s together with her so that in some insidious way he can squeeze her life out.

Four
    N ow. Vita’s towering up. She’s standing tall and white. From below, her face looks like two nostrils and a chin, and her breasts are two sacs with raspberry nipples, ripe for the plucking, they almost tumble into your