I’ve seen that the apartment on the third floor in the building next door can fill up with clouds. That there can be so many, they are pushed up against the windows, and meanwhile I imagine what it’s like to stay in the apartment, if anyone can breathe in there at all. Maybe if you went down to the street and pressed the intercom, you would only hear a puffing and hissing in the speaker, as if somebody tried to whistle without having enough air. It would be one of those embarrassing moments, when you suspect there’s someone waiting at the other end, but still you say nothing.
—Translated from Danish by David Keplinger