translated by Georg Aescht
A book about the fear of being alive, about the faint of being one’s own body, about a long room filled with fog, with lambs hanging from the ceiling, about how to touch and caress with words and how someone is drifting on rose petals, on a metal never shining sun, hidden beneath the floor, over a woman in a dress made of salt. Life and death intertwine, biography and metaphysics painfully coexist in this book about reality beneath reality. It deals with the body, about the fear of being touched. Der Lärm des Fleisches (The Noise of Flesh) can be understood as an imaginary journey to the verge of reality or even into the depths of unreality.