Tubutsch

Karl Tubutsch narrates his melancholic, hollow state and an inability to locate any cause for a pervasive emptiness that makes days collapse into indistinguishable moments. He occupies himself by obsessively observing trivial urban oddities and weaving speculative meanings around them, noting details from a rose-scented policeman to a pea seller and a persistently visiting sparrow. Shyness and fear of embarrassment prevent him from asking questions that might resolve these puzzles, so attentive scrutiny becomes both diversion and burden. Brief interludes with an old shoemaker, who tells resigned, melodic stories, provide fleeting consolation and human warmth.