The boy took a step back. I saw his eyes widen, and at that fear rose up in me, the hot, searing fear that he might not understand me, that he might turn away.

Stay there, I ordered him sharply. Purify your soul, confess before God the Almighty and beg Him for enlighten­ment!

He turned away, but I grabbed him by the shoulder. I was shaking. I raised my face to Heaven and cried: O Lord, take up this boy! Take him into Your lap! Take him into the protection of Your eternal love! Redeem him, O God!

As I shouted, I heard, as if at a great distance, the dog’s whimpering and the boy’s scream. A shudder ran through his body. He wrenched himself free and ran off.

For a while I stood motionless, gazing upwards. Four pigeons minced along the roof ridge of the town hall, one after another. The television antenna rose up into the sky like a spindly cross, glowing in the morning light.

When I lowered my eyes again, everything had changed. I had finally attained clarity and recognized the enormity. Yet instead of sinking into despair, I was filled with calm. I felt light and free; it wouldn’t have taken much for me to burst out laughing in the middle of the street. An elderly couple were passing on the other side of the road. They were walking arm in arm, and the woman was speaking ani­matedly to her husband. They stopped and looked at me for a moment, then turned the corner and disappeared.

I entered the church. It was quiet and cool. Dust swirled in the dim beams of light. The saints stood frozen in stone. Between two pews, a hymnal lay open on the floor.

Dass Du mich einstimmen lässt in Deinen Jubel. That I may join in exalting Thee.

*

A single votive candle flickers on the stand. I take it and carry it up the aisle. I do not cross myself. I do not kneel. I do not listen to the voices.

I hold the light in my hand.

The white cloth is draped over the Table of the Lord, who is no longer at home here. I hold the flame to the corners and it immediately catches fire. A cool draught gusts through the church, and the flames leap up. The crucifix is first to ignite. Jesus crackles and snaps. As he breaks free of the cross and slowly topples forwards, he looks as if he is laughing. The altar burns. I walk behind it, with the candle, to the pile of hymnals. They catch as if soaked in petrol. I throw some of them high into the air. They flutter for a moment like burning birds before plunging into the pews. One of the books slips under the curtain of the prayer niche. The curtain billows, then ignites in a single, noiseless explosion. The flames roar and crash among the benches. Blisters unfurl in the wooden varnish like glowing flowers with threads of smoke rising from them. I am at peace, because now I know everything. The windows burst above my head and the saints scatter in a rain of colourful splinters. The wind blows through the window cavities, fanning the flames higher. The pulpit burns, light trembles in the water of the font, and high up, in the darkness under the roof, sparks whirl like dancing stars.