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... and black, hanging over the morning mist across Vienna’s government buildings.

The speech at Heldenplatz had ended not with an explosion but with absorption of sentiment, of territory and of expectations.

But it was not a climax.

It was a gateway.

And in Berlin, the machine had already begun to move.

There were no generals in the first meetings only clerks.

No tanks in the first trains only ledgers and suitcases filled with stamps, forms, and blan ...

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Within the red tent, under the passionate eyes of the man on top, she was forced to make love and three thousand black strands turned to white.

Outside the red tent, her husband laughed and drank with the beauties by his side as they watched…

When the red was torn, pieces of it were carried away by the wind. As she stepped out with difficult steps, the silver hair danced in the wind. Exactly whose heart was the one that was hurt in the end?

“How…how could it be you?” A voice filled with disbelief, he who always believed himself to be cold and unfeeling, fell into the pits of hell, filled with pain and regret for eternity.

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