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The Beggar's Diary, 22.09.2007

All by myself in the mornin'
All by myself in the night
I sit alone with a table and a chair
So unhappy there
playing solitaire
All by myself I get lonely
Watchin’ the clock on the shelf
I'd love to rest my weary head
on somebody's shoulder
I hate to grow older
all by myself

A song by Irving Berlin! (note of the editor: well, The Beggar said it was by Dave Brubeck, I myself do not really know…)

rijeka rijeka rieka
undddort scheint die sonne? ist es so?
dort kann man geschichten verkaufen,
eine große musikerkarriere starten,
revolutionen entfachen gegen die trägheit?
ist es so?
herr filch sollte es herausfinden.

The city is full of tourists, as if everyone in the world was running not to miss their last chance to see SP07. And The Beggar knows he has only one week to live. Yet, he does not know if he will die, exactly (editor’s note: fictional characters do not really die; it is just that the book ends).
In any case, Filch knows he has one week to go, and the loneliness that always precedes nightfall invades him. He is melancholic, but relieved as well.

He comes across a demonstration for animal rights. He takes a picture and then someone shouts:
“Foto Arschloch!!!”

He joins the demonstration.
“I’m sorry, but what does that mean, what you just shouted at me?”

“Oh, I'm terribly sorry, please excuse us! We thought…,” the girl replies.

The Beggar joins the demonstration, delighted to belong to a group, and, what’s more, to a group with noble ideals! He leaves the moment his trolley runs over one of the small dogs who’re also part of the protest: "You don't want to do that in front of 200 animal lovers," as he puts it.

Filch is in town. He sells a 10DM bill for 7 Euro; he meets Mats Gustafson, who gives him a Bionade (but who is this Mats Gustafson, Filch? is that the Swedish millionaire and rock star?); he cashes the 30 cents he gets for returning empty bottles; he tells a story for 1 Euro; he gets a chocolate cookie; he finds out that the fyal is offering "ròestbar" coffee, which is apparently only made in Muenster; he takes a picture of himself at the centre of the “Zone”; and, at the Domplatz, two little girls are singing for money. It feels like Indian summer. Indian summer? A woman explains that the expression originated during the wars among Native American tribes; the last battles had to be resolved before wintertime.

Rijeka on his mind. "If I cannot go to Rijeka, perhaps Rijeka could come to me?”