I have moved. In the office from the
2nd floor to the 5th floor. One can describe it as a meteoric rise
because the 5th floor is the top floor in our building. And at the same time
from one city to another. Every move means separation. I’m a collector and over
the years numerous objects and material memories have collected. At both new
locations I have less room than before and I could take only a little with me (no
furniture at all). That meant that something had to go. It took weeks to separate
myself from what I had grown to love.
Imagine it like a picture: I stand in
front of my large library and pick up every book again. I note that certain
books I have not touched in over 20 years, except to dust them. Do I need such
a book? Will I read it ever again in my whole life? At the time I read it, but
today I have only a vague idea of what it was about. But with many of these
books there is associated a memory of the circumstances, in which I read it. Perhaps
in summer, during the school holidays. For a time I used to climb up into our
apple tree and, sitting in the branches, to read books. Suddenly, the book in
my hand, there is a smell of ripe apples again. The time that belongs in the
last millennium seems as if it were only yesterday. If I now give this book
away, the memory will be lost.
Before, my books were sacred. If
there had been a fire, I would probably have tried to save them all. My
children knew that they had much liberty, but should they damage one of the
books, paint it or otherwise spoil it, there’ll be a row. Only once had my
eldest, as a 3-year old, painted a picture in one of my books. I flipped out and
she realised that she had found my Achilles’ heel. Clever as she is, she never again
made the same mistake.
But if I now separate from a book, what
shall I do with it? Earlier, when one had read a book, one could sell it or give
it away. That doesn’t work any longer, because no-one wants them. In addition,
many of my old books are in languages, which one very seldom hears in
Switzerland and practically never sells as books. Therefore, the only way to
get rid of books today is as waste paper. But you can’t get rid of the whole
book as waste paper. The book covers have to be separated from the pages. They
can be cut off with a knife.
Although today, I am prepared to get
rid of many books. I’ll never read them again, a murder of a book. But stab
them in the back, that I can’t do. Very conscientiously and very generously, I
sorted out a lot of books. I wasn’t comfortable doing so. I knew that their
fate was destruction. My heart was weeping, but I continued the liquidation. But
I couldn’t do it in one go, because emotionally it so drained me – I had to do
it bit by bit. Therefore the sorting took weeks.
But damage the books with a knife,
that I couldn’t face myself. I had to ask for help. I also couldn’t watch. That
was too painful.
Now I have moved. I have unpacked all my
clothes, my office. But not yet the books. I know that the books I’ve moved are
angry with me, although they have survived. I understand them, after all they
have lost a lot of acquaintances. I also mourn their loss.
Kalaidos Fachhochschule Schweiz is looking for support, please see below:
Michaela Merz 