"What is that?," asks Joker enthusiastically. "A concert for us two?"
"That is for rude boys who want to share Bambi’s shower," I explain.
"That is historical materialism," Joker laughs.
"How do you work that out?"
"You wouldn’t understand. The external social conditions deter-mine the development of art."
Joker is usually embarrassed to show off his higher education. He disguises himself with experiences from the time when he was an unskilled worker in Tel Aviv. Just occasionally, in very personal talks between the two of us, does the university shine out through his words.
"Rubbish," I say, and try to involve him in a discussion, "the most important is the individual." Joker soaps himself carefully. He uses the same method as I do.
"A horse is worth more than ten people!" Joker quotes.
"What’s that rubbish you’re talking!" Bambi protests from behind the partition.
"That is quite simple," Joker explains. "Every nine months you can produce a human being. But you just try to bring a horse into this world."
With "you’re a dirty pig!" Bambi terminates the scientific debate.
* * *
Your eyes are flowing with green light.
* * *
L-u-n-c-h-t-i-m-e!
When this magic word sounds, a mass of humanity streams out of the tents. An enormous and very loud line forms by the mess tent. The man on duty, one of the "pupils" who graces this honorable position for twenty-four hours at a time, tries in vain to demonstrate his leadership qualities by imposing some kind of order on the chat-tering, swearing, laughing line.
Jamus and I are the last to come out of our tent. We stroll slowly toward the kitchen, without bringing any cutlery.
"Disgusting, how people push into the line!" Jamus remarks as loud as he can.