A rock the size of a house hovers outside my window. A woman sleeps in its shade. I try to open my window to warn her a rock is about to fall on her, but the window’s stuck, resisting my attempts to open it. One summer my twin sister and I spoke only German to each other. Neither of us was very good but we always knew what the other was saying. We had long conversations, argued about which one of us was real, which one just a figment of the other’s imagination. The woman sleeping in the shade of the rock begins to stir, wakes up. She looks at me, Seines nicht liegend mich hier unter diesem Felsen, seines Sie.