I was an abroad student in Berlin 20 years ago.
    Winters in Berlin have engraved upon my memory that I do not think I will ever forget how it felt to trot from my apartment to the campus in those days. Freezing. The endless coldness. Berlin was like an eccentric who changed his mood easily and extremely out of passion. It could be 5°C in the morning and 20°C at noon. Then 5°C again in the evening when you walked back from the laboratory. All you wanted were merely a cup of hot chocolate and a warm bath at that time.
   They say Berlin is the most beautiful and charming in wintertime. I doubt it not. Unlike Paris, Berlin always has a thousand different ways to appeal to you. Paris is hardly comparable to Berlin without its so-called romantic vibes. What I saw in Berlin was something beyond the external beauty and the superficial pursuits of tourists. A silent city with forces that cannot be overlooked. There is no doubt that I spent the most joyful years of my life there.
    My university was far from where I lived back then. I rented a second-handed bicycle  which was of burning red color to ride on in order to get to the campus on time. The funny point about that vehicle was that half of the oil paints on it had come off and the steel being covered could be seen. The other half of the bicycle was in good condition and rather contrasting to the coarse side. My friend Liam could not help laughing out loud everytime he saw that bike.
    “It’s old. You should consider getting a new bicycle.” he said.
    “Not old enough for me to spend money on a new one.”
    Then we would always get into the same track of arguing whether I need to rent or buy a better looking bike or not.
    As it turned out that the burning red colored bicycle was durable enough for me to ride on for years. Time marched on together with all my memories, however dolce, however haunting. Liam and I spent most of our time in staying up late for the tests coming the next day, on the parties one coming after another, on daily trivia, on constant arguments about my bike…… we seemed to have been engulfed in the river of time and when we suddenly looked back, all we saw was a total whiteout. Nothing, nothing left but a giant void. It was some time later when I happened to be in contact with Liam again that he told me that he felt as if those golden ages slipped idly by. He felt a sense of guilt to some extent.
    Traurige. Liam used the word Traurige. It has the simplest meaning, which is sorrowful, in German. He regretted his ignorances and his daftness during that time. As he later remarked, those years were the prime of his long life. Yet he did nothing but waiting, waiting for a better day coming after every bad day.
     We haven’t seen each other for at least a decade. Yet from his occasional letters can I tell Liam hasn’t changed at all. His cleverly-phrased expressions always amuse me unexpectedly. His either radiant or careworn looks came back to my mind throughout reading his letters and messages.He must be one of the most sensitive people I have ever known. I recognize myself as a frail and anxious person who pays too much attention to others’ feelings that at times it is too late to find that what they say has disconcerted me. But Liam is not like me at all, he is more like a mixture. You can find a combination of blandness and absolute humor in him. He is the strangest creature for sure.
     Once we were rambling about the woods when Liam let out a sudden shriek. I was daydreaming and his scream shocked me. So I grew sullen and turned around to see what happened. Liam’s eyes were sparkling and he began trotting. He was a rigid and ineloquent person and he smiled few times, let alone this sort of exaggerated emotional expression. Therefore I became even more curious and followed him up to find out the truth. I broke into laughter when I saw what Liam was doing. It was a squirrel with dark brown fur. He held the squirrel up in both hands so gingerly as if he was lifting a fragile vase of great value.
      “Look at what I’ve found! My mascot of the day!” smiling delightfully, Liam moved forward slowly with the cute little thing eyes wide open on his palms.
      “Macot of the day? What for?” I was bewildered.
      “For my good luck! Yesterday it was an apple and look at it, today it is this adorable little thing!”
       The squirrel seemed quite submissive on his palms. I was surprised by its docility. Squirrels could be so frisky that they drove you crazy for most of the time from my past experience. That one, however, was an exception.
       I must admit that there is something above the ordinary in Liam’s funny head. Something hiding in his mind, obscure yet intriguing at all. One would scarcely pay any additional attention to a decent fellow who was no different from any other elegantly dressed, good-mannered and hearty young men like him. As you might imagine, there was nothing peculiar nor attractive in Liam’s appearance when one first met him. Nonetheless, he was my congenial company in whom I found a most unworldly and poetic soul.

       We were both members of a reading club when at college. It was a rather important club to which the university attached significance. Liam had a gift for literature. When he first joined the club, nobody seemed to notice his talents until one day when he gave a splendid speech on comparative literature. It was a huge success and all his resplendent words and profound viewpoints found their own place in the enthusiastic applause and honor. Liam soon became the man of the hour. Everyone in the club looked up to him as some sort of authority except for the president of the club. She was a stylishly dressed girl who had always been a big figure in the university and I guess she just would not deign to congratulate Liam. She did not have the most beautiful face but she was somehow more attractive to guys than other girls were. Being tactful, sharp, imperturbable and well-behaved, that girl was perfection herself. An arrogant girl with strong egos would not be popular with others in the normal cases. Her influences, however, did not get affected by Liam’s sudden elevation. In my forty years of life, no other women except for my mother are more competent than her. Guys talked about her in the pub around the rare wits she had in progressing to the position she held. It was undeniable that that girl had inborn talents in every aspect of life. In the end, they would generally added: “Oh she is the smartest girl ever, ever,” as a conclusion.
        
       Nevertheless, she had never really crossed my mind for years until Liam asked me out on a frigid rainy afternoon.
       It was surprising coincidence that I was just on some errand in Berlin when Liam phoned me. He spoke in a muffled voice and sounded sorrowful. I was filled with great joy at hearing his voice again after that so many years when he went silent after drawling a greeting to me. My instincts told me that something went wrong and that my dearest friend was suffering. So I tried my best to ask what had happened as amicably as possible. Liam stammered in such a low voice that I could not catch even a single word. There was probably something irksome in his mind that he found it hard to explain on the phone. I was just about to speak when he suggested inquiringly that we could meet up in person whenever I was available. It was a relief as I was searching for words to clear off the embarrassments. I double-checked my schedule to make sure about the time. That coming Friday would do. 3:30 p.m., Café Einstein, please come, my friend.

         April in Berlin tended to stifle your passions and youthful ardor. Even inside the room with all windows shuttered could you feel the abnormal nip in the air. The old lady who lived downstairs saw me going out and asked:
         “Hey ya! Where ya going?”
         “Umm... to meet a friend.” I could not help shuddering even with my overcoat on.
         “Sure, sure… a friend, huh? Good luck, boy…” Then she stared at somewhere on the ceiling with dull eyes, muttering something to herself.
          I was not in the mood of taking account of her bizarre behaviour now. All I wanted was to meet my old friend and embraced him tightly if needed. Thus, I quickened my pace a bit and walked out of that dim common room.
         Soon I was in Kurfürstenstraße. Here could I sense old fashioned spirits interweaving with what modernization had brought with it. There were few people walking in the street on such a chilly day. The bleak breeze seemed to have frozen the burning desires in our heart and snuffed out the bright flames altogether. Some stores along the side of the street shut at an early hour and the kids who usually romped about were nowhere to be seen. Maybe it was a black day when everything went off the course.   
          All those old houses turned dark in the sad sky and what I missed the most about this place, which was its sweet flowing warmth, had faded away. I entered the Café with slow and ponderous strides. I wondered if my trespassing had broke its surreal atmosphere and I became upset at this thought. Then I saw Liam, sat rigidly by the window with his legs straight out stiffly. He looked utterly incongruous in this place. There were a group of ladies who dressed in an exaggerated way talking and laughing aloud sitting right next to him. Apparently, they were enjoying entertaining each other in droll tones and with self-righteous cleverness. Liam got his eyes fixed on the mug in front of him. How tender and somber my friend was.
        I walked fast towards him and he was so absent-minded that he did not even notice my sitting down.
       “Liam,” I called his name gently.
       “Ah… You are here. Sorry for being like this, sorry, sorry.” He squeezed out a smile and apologized for at least four times.
       “No… Don’t be,” I said,” Never, never apologize to me, old buck.”
       I tried comforting my poor friend by physical contacts but I gave up at last. I feared scaring him. Hence I wanted to say something to draw back his attention.
       Once more, however, Liam was ahead of me. “Do you still remember Elise? Elise Kunz. The president of the reading club when we were at college.”
       Frankly speaking, I had imagined and practiced hundreds of ways which Liam might use and my witty repartee to begin our conversation in my head but beginning with an Elise was not even a bit conceivable. Besides, at that moment I was pretty sure that I had never known any Elise in my life. But I assumed that this Miss or Mrs Kunz should be someone of great importance to Liam, or else he would not have asked. It was not my attempt to fail him but I could not give an affirmative answer. Thus, I simply frowned and gave Liam a vague look as if I was trying my best to dispel all the impediments that prevented me from recalling this certain Elise Kunz and to drag the image of this lady out of my mind.
         “Not your fault if you don’t,” said Liam. He began tapping his fingers on the table when he said this.
         And in the awkward silence came. Sitting there opposite to Liam, I searched hard for words to fill the silence but unfortunately nothing came out of my mind. Liam kept tapping his fingertips with his lips tight and breathed heavily.
         “That Elise. That tall and charming one. The most capable female among all the ladies I’ve known. We always talked about her.”
         Across the back of my mind flashed a vision of a sharp girl who always wore tailored suits and costly high heels walking through the hallways shuttling from one classroom to another lecture room. I collected the fragments of my memory at this juncture rapidly. It could not be wrong. Then I remember her. The Elise.
         Liam noticed my enlightenment. He then looked up and gazed out of the window. “You know her. She had always been such a tough person.”
         Had?
         “Yes. She is dead now. Suicide.”
         He spoke it out dispassionately. His fingers were still tapping the table restlessly as to conceal his sorrow. I, however, could tell that he was in great agony. You see, Liam had a most placid character in him which made him seem too mild almost to the point of blandness. He lived discreetly and he barely talk when unnecessary, even with his friends. He naturally felt certain shame when learning and gossiping about others’ concerns which were none of his, which made it a jolt to me when he asking me out and telling me the shocking news.
          “I, I am awfully sorry,” under this circumstance could I hardly think of anything else to say.
          “Now I will never gonna ever forgive myself. I… I didn’t even get a chance to say sorry, sorry… I…,” then he buried his head into his arms and began to whimper.
          I then realized how serious the problem could be.
          “What happened, Liam? Tell me exactly what happened?”
          The clouds had come down and the birds that were hovering had gone. We were all under the shadow of great grief that even calm breaths seemed a luxury.
           Liam cooled down a little. He looked into my eyes for a while and paused temporarily. Then he seemed to have made up his mind and continued our conversation.
           

           Then, probably after more than two hours, I got to know everything.
           About one year ago, Liam received an anonymous letter from another part of the country. The letter was put in a torn envelope which must have been kept for at least 10 years. The content was simple. In a word, the writer was eager to speak with Liam in person. Liam was perplexed in the first place because he himself had never traveled to that region, nor had he ever made any acquaintances there. After going through the letter, he felt even more puzzled. Then he showed it to me. It was a long one which was written in beautiful cursives. I read over the whole thing carefully due to my awakened interests in literature.  Even in a situation like this could I tell the literary geniuses of the writer. The well-knit letter suggests his or her talents in writing not only by the perfect organization but also by its elaborate sentences and good choices of words. One strange thing I noticed was that half of the paper was crumpled while the other half was rather smooth. I asked Liam if he did this by accident but he said no, it was not him. The letter was just like this when he took it out from the envelope.
            “I was so busy engaging in various petty tasks that I totally left it behind.” said Liam. He kept the letter in the bottom drawer and had never took it out again.
            Until the second letter came. He was collecting personal mails when he found another envelope lying quietly there in the mailbox. Strange address, unfamiliar name. Associating this letter with that first one aroused Liam’s suspicion. It was a Felizia Breitenbach this time.
Another letter written by a stranger from a different address was puzzling indeed. Liam figured that they could be from the same person. Therefore, he decided to check this person out.
             “Did you find out who she was then?” I asked.
              “No. It was a fake name. I even went there myself but it was obviously an abandoned house.” Said Liam sarcastically.
              “That’s… bad to know.” I sighed deeply.
              “I should have known that. It must be a pseudonym. I was stupid enough to expect something to happen”
              The rain grew heavier outside as the dusk gathered. Those noisy ladies stood up and were about to leave. Before they went out, the one in the middle turned around and glanced at us but said nothing. Our eyes met, which made me feel a bit embarrassed. Luckily, it was just a momentary matter before she walked out of the Café with her companies.
                Liam began tapping the table again. He took a deep breath and said:”I gave up looking for this woman then. I persuaded myself that maybe she had moved into another place and she mailed the letters by mistake. After all, life went on. But in a month or two, I can’t tell the exact date, I received letters again.”
                They were all from that Felizia Breitenbach. Different addresses, though. What Liam had told me reminded me of a moving love story. The heroine had been admiring the hero for years. Yet he ended up being with another woman. So she wrote him long letters confessing her love for him and how terribly she missed him. I guessed that woman was also an admirer of Liam so I teased: “Look like you have got a persistent admirer.”
                 I was expecting Liam to say something hilarious about that when he said: “No. Not at all. She was suffering from depression. She was very sick and I wasn’t there when she needed me. In fact, I didn’t even care about her. I feel like I am the worst person ever. No, no, please don’t…” Liam became more and more furious. In the end, he started to sob uncontrollably, kept saying: “It’s all too late. I am an unmitigated coward, coward…”
                 His words left me speechless there. I was completely stunned by him. I could see that my old friend had gone and replaced by a somber stranger who had a profound sense of guilt.
                 “But my friend, how did you know all of this?” I asked, patting his back softly as to soothe him.
                 “I kept all those letters and requested an old postal acquaintance to help tracking them. It turned out to be Elise Kunz. I was overwhelmed by the truth. We had never seen each other ever since the graduation. Why? Why did she choose to write to me? She was begging in despair for me to call on her whenever I could make it. In the letters, she repeated that she did need me again and again. She was trapped in a heap of troubles and she couldn’t possibly extricate herself from them on her own. It must be admitted that she looked as if she was an elite, an absolute successful person who never needed to worry about her livelihood whereas deep down, she knew that that glamorous Elise no longer existed. Instead, she didn’t even recognize herself. ‘How did I end up here? Since when have I become a loser like I am now?’ She kept asking herself. Her best days were over. She struggled to get rid of negative feelings but the inferiority took over her and she was too weak to fight back. That was when she needed someone she knew that could help. This person couldn’t be one of her family members nor her so-called friends. It had to be someone who knew nothing of her life ever since her first job, for she could rely on this person entirely with all her strengths and opened up her mind to this person. She was in despair, don’t you get it? She wanted to say something but nobody listened to her. Nobody cared a damn about what she said or what she did. The glories were all long gone, she was but a prisoner of utter solitude. She chose to ignore the upbuilding stress and grief at first, but as time went by, she came to the realization that they were nowhere to be hidden. Her secrets became known and people started gossipping.Those vicious gossips ruined her reputation. It was those people who destroyed her. She thought of me and she trusted in me. I failed her. I am a horrible man. Now that she is gone far far away. Those pills freed her. Yet it is so unfair. So unfair…”
                 Liam’s head was bent and his voice trailed off. The freezing downpour made huge noise, which covered up his sniffles. Yet what he said had been imprinted upon my heart and stuck it deeply. That April was evil. The death of Elise aroused my deepest sympathy. Whose fault was it?
                 I embraced my dearest friend and guided him through the road as he was all tears. I could not tell whether it was physical coldness or inner numbness that made me shiver unintentionally. All I knew was that Berlin was substantially a place of cruelty. That poor woman was judged unjustly. I believe there are thousands of them who are now suffering from great pain but we take it as normal pattern of life and preach about virtues sanctimoniously. We have no shame in ourselves. We are in smug satisfaction because we live much happier lives than they do.
                 Am I also a hypocrite?
                 Yes, yes. So are you. So is everyone.