All language subtitles for Berlin.Alexanderplatz.E07.1080p.Bluray.x264

Together with major contributions...

by many others, present:

A film in 13 parts with an epilogue,
based on the novel by Alfred Döblin.

Ladies and gentlemen,

once again the hour draws near...

when we shall be called upon
to decide...

Our friend Franz Biberkopf isn't dead.

In all that mess,
he only lost an arm.

My God, was he lucky.
Just an arm, that's all.

In other words,
he's still on his feet.

Who knows if he won't
blow the whistle on us?

He's not the kind of guy
to blow the whistle on you.

Oh, no?

Are you sure about that?

I'm absolutely sure.

Shit!
How can you do a thing like that?

It's all your fault. Do you hear me?

I said all along: if he's not dead,
it's dangerous for us.

You're worrying unnecessarily.

You can rely on me.

He won't give us any trouble.

Take my word for it.

Well, if you're so sure...

I'm really sure, Pums,

as sure as I'm sitting here.

As sure as death.

How come you're so sure?

Tell him he must
leave that to me, Pums!

Tell him.

Reinhold may be right.

Biberkopf's not the kind of guy
who rats on people.

I'm pretty sure Reinhold's right.

I am right.

He'll be damned careful...

not to rat on us,
this Franz Biberkopf.

He'll be damned careful.

And...

if one arm isn't enough for him,

he only has to let us know.

If that's what he wants...

Maybe he's got...

a head to lose, too.

Or am I mistaken, Meck?

You know him best.

There you are, then.

You don't have to worry about him.

Not him.

You know, Herbert,
all things considered,

you don't have to be
afraid of prison.

When I think of Tegel...

I had plenty of time
to experience it all and...

to observe it and take it all in.

All things considered,

it's no different from outside.

Ah, come on.

Sure there are differences.

Just think about the broads.

Yeah, all right, the broads...

That's true. But that may be
the only thing that's different.

But the fact that people
are all different,

that there are all sorts:
great and small...

And then all the rules and laws,

which some obey and others don't,

that sometimes you're afraid...

and sometimes you're happy,

or that you get punished...

But as far as broads are concerned,

it depends how you look at it.

For my part,

somehow, I...

Somehow I didn't miss it.

Come on!
What are you saying, Franz?

No, really, Eva.

I always had a soft spot
for the broads. You know that.

Always.

But the four years I was in there...

No, I just didn't miss them.

You were probably a special case...

because of Ida.

You think it's because of Ida?

No, Herbert,

I don't think so.

Because basically,

Ida was a decent girl.

And when you think about it,

I should have longed for her,
shouldn't I?

But there was nothing.

Four years without a woman.

Not even thinking about it...

There must be
something special about you.

That may be.

But for the guys I talked to
out there in Tegel,

it wasn't much different.

I don't think there's anything
special about me. I think...

it's something more general.

Even so, it's a shame about Ida.

She was a great girl,

don't you think?

Sure I think so Herbert.

That's why I was with her:

because she was a great girl, my Ida.

It's sad what happened to her.

Yeah, it's sad.

Sure it's sad.

She was too young to die.

Everyone's too young
when it comes to dying.

But it happened.

But I know very well,

and you know it, too:
I didn't mean to...

- I really didn't mean to!
- We all know that, Franz.

Still, it's a pity about Ida.
She was a great girl.

But when you think about it,

there was something base about her.

- What?
- Bullshit! Something base about her.

- You're jealous, that's all.
- Well...

You were jealous.

You wanted Franz for yourself,
and Ida snatched him away from you.

Baloney, saying she was base.

That's a lie, a dirty lie.

I said it because it's true.

I'm not jealous in the least.

Why should I be jealous?

When I came out of Tegel,
the houses seemed to sway,

and the roofs came sliding down.

I sang in a courtyard,
and I swore to myself,

as sure as my name's Franz
Biberkopf, that I'd stay straight.

And all that stuff from the past
was over and done with.

Franz?

Who threw you out of the car, Franz?

Look, Franz,

maybe you can't fight
against them on your own,

but there are enough people in Berlin
who'll stand by you.

No. Just forget it, Eva.

There's no point in talking about it.

Forget it.
It won't make my arm grow back.

I'd really like to
get right away from Berlin.

But what can I do...
as a cripple?

You're not a cripple, Franz.

But we can't let them get away
with what they did to you,

throwing you out of the car
and everything.

That won't make my arm grow back.

They should pay for it, though!

What do you say?

It's a syndicate. If you belong to it,
they should pay you.

They've got to pay for the arm,
Franz.

It's the right one.

They must pay you a pension.
Don't shake your head.

We'll bash the guy's skull in
whoever did that. It's an outrage.

We can't go to court.
We must do it our own way.

Franz wasn't in any syndicate.
You heard:

he didn't even want to go along.

And he had every right not to.

Since when can you force a guy?

We're not barbarians.

Let them go to the savages!

No,
they're not getting away with that!

They ruined your nerves.

That's why you won't agree to it.

But you can count on us.

Pums hasn't ruined our nerves.

Do you know
what Herbert always says?

There'll be a bloodbath in Berlin,
he says,

that'll really open people's eyes.

I guarantee it.

But that won't give me back my arm.

And it's okay that the arm's gone.

The arm had to go.

Part 7:
Remember - An Oath Can Be Amputated

There's been a lot of talk
about Biberkopf in the syndicate.

Some guy called Herbert Wischow
is agitating against us,

saying we're a bunch of pigs,

that Biberkopf didn't want to
go along with us,

that we forced him to,

and that afterwards,

we threw him out of the car.

That's not true.

No one threw him out of the car.

It was an accident.

That's what I told them:
it was an accident,

that Biberkopf wanted to blow
the whistle on us,

and that there was no question
of violence.

Nobody laid a finger on him.

But you know yourselves:
once a rumor starts...

We daren't let that happen,

whatever anyone says.

We can't afford a row in the syndicate.
That must be clear.

If there's a conflict,

our hands are tied.

We'll be all washed up.

- We can't let that happen.
- Right.

We'll have to show our goodwill.

We must take care
of his recuperation...

and the physician's costs.

We'll take up a collection for him.

We should do him in.

Maybe...

But you won't find anyone
to do it in a hurry.

He's been punished enough,
running around with one arm.

Gentlemen, there's no way around it...

Let's take up a collection.

If everyone contributes...

You're not getting a penny out of me
for this idiocy.

Good day, gentlemen!

The new brother-in-law
of the ex-Kaiser has married.

The princess is 61, and the boy's 27!

That must have cost a fortune,

and he'll never be a prince anyway.

How can you read newspapers
like that?

Why not?

They're the best ones.

There's nothing about
politics in them.

Did I tell you I'm going to Zoppot
with Herbert?

No.

You two are going to Zoppot?

To Zoppot.

My john,
the guy I have the apartment with,

wants to go to Zoppot,
and Herbert's coming along incognito.

So I'll see him every day.

Together we march, apart we sleep!

What do you say to that?

It must be really nice in Zoppot.

I've never been there,
but I've heard about it.

"Police officers
to get bulletproof vests."

My God,
who believes in them anymore?

Don't worry. I'll get it.

- Bruno, what are you doing here?
- Let me in first!

All right. Come on in then.

This is Eva,

and this here is Bruno
from Pums's outfit.

- What? From Pums's outfit?
- Hello.

Franz, can't you see?

He came up only because he knows
Herbert's not here.

Okay, Bruno, out with it!

What do you want with me?

Throw him out, Franz!

He's bad luck.

He'll bring us bad luck.
Throw him out!

- Maybe you'd better listen to Eva.
- Throw him out!

- Maybe it's better if you leave now.
- Out! Out! Out!

Get out!

- Are you a prisoner here?
- No, no.

I'm not a prisoner here.

You're afraid he'll blow
the whistle on you.

That's what you're afraid of.

Okay, spit it out, Bruno!
Why did you come here?

- What do you want?
- Get out!

Come on, Eva! Leave him alone!

He doesn't mean any harm.

Okay, Bruno,
don't keep me in suspense!

Spit it out!

Well, it's nothing special, Franz.

We just thought...

We sat down together
and thought everything over,

and...
everyone said something.

All plain and simple, and we said

we have to give Franz something.
We owe it to him.

Yeah, so we took up a collection,

and that's what I wanted to
bring you, what we collected.

You want to give me money?
Why should you?

- I wasn't even in on it.
- Come on, Franz.

You kept a lookout.

No, no, Bruno.
I didn't keep a lookout.

I didn't understand a thing.

I was put there...

without knowing
what I was supposed to do,

- or why I was there.
- But...

No buts, Bruno.

You can't possibly know.
You weren't there.

You were nabbed beforehand!

It was my bad luck
that they arrested you...

and that you sent me to Pums.

But I didn't keep a lookout.
I didn't know what was going on.

But none of you need be afraid of me.

I never blew the whistle
on anyone in my life.

Franz, look.

He's going to shoot.

My God, what am I going to do?

Dead.

Dead! All over!
Finished! Murderer!

I don't want to die!

Don't kill me!

Don't kill me!

Franz, quick!
Get behind the cupboard!

Run! Quick! Quick!

He wants to shoot me.

He really wants to shoot me,

like when I kept a lookout.

Is that going to start all over again?
I don't want to,

I tell you. I don't want to...

I don't want to be
thrown under a car again.

I must use a chair.

I must go after him with a chair.

Just keep going straight ahead!
We can save ourselves.

Keep going! We can...

Livestock at the slaughterhouse:
11,543 pigs,

2,016 head of cattle, 920 calves,

14,450 rams.

A blow. Bam! There they lie.

The pigs, cattle, calves
being slaughtered.

It doesn't concern us.

And where do we stand? We?

Sometimes fainting is nothing
other than death in a living body.

I'm close to death.

I feel it,

about to kick the bucket.

If you don't do something now, Franz,
something real, final, decisive...

If you don't pick up a club,
a sabre,

and strike with it, whatever...
If you don't run away,

Franz Biberkopf, old buddy,
then you're finished, once and for all,

and you can get yourself
measured for a casket.

Darling!

Just imagine, darling!

I've got a job!

It all worked out. I can perform.

I won't earn much,
but at least it's a start again.

What's the matter?
Aren't you glad?

Sure.

Sure!

And I was so happy.

I thought I'd come home,

tell you it had worked out,
and you'd be glad...

Reinhold,

I was much happier...

for your sake than for mine.

But you behave as if
you couldn't care less.

Nonsense, Cilly! Sure I'm glad.

It's just that...

maybe I'm glad
in a different way from others.

People are glad in different ways,
right?

Always the same old bullshit!

Don't start crying again, please.

But I'm not crying.

Of course you're crying.

You're always crying.

Either a guy behaves
the way you imagine he should...

in your goddamned heads,

or you cry and bawl...

and never leave a guy in peace.

But I do leave you in peace, really.

I do leave you in peace.

I'm sorry.

I...

I...

I just wanted to please you.

I am pleased, Cilly.

How many more times
do I have to say it?

I'm pleased.

I'm pleased.

All right?

Okay, then.

...and I don't want to...

and I don't want to...

and I won't kick the bucket.

Sheer anxiety drives him from his bed.

He can't just lie there.

Even if it means croaking in the street,
he has to leave his bed.

He has to go out.

The cobra...
Look, it creeps, it shuffles.

It is injured.

It's still the same old cobra,

even if there are black rings
around its eyes.

Some things are clearer to
the old boy now, who drags himself...

through the streets,
so as not to kick the bucket...

in his lodgings.
Some things are clearer to him now,

as he runs away from death.

He's learned something
from life after all.

Yes, my boy,

you don't walk so sure-footed anymore.

Now you have to clutch something,
hold on tight,

with all the teeth
and fingers you've got,

hanging on for dear life,
so as not to be thrown off.

No minors

Not interested in something special?

I haven't found anything special.

But we have
something special to offer:

the choicest collection
of broads in Berlin.

Oh yeah?

Come with me.
I'd like to show you something.

Baloney.
It's always the same thing.

Not this time.

Okay, then. What's the greatest,

the most exciting thing
you've got to offer?

Come this way!

The great whore,

the whore of Babylon,
who sits by the waters.

You see a woman sitting
on a scarlet beast.

The woman is full
of the names of blasphemy.

She has seven heads
and ten horns.

She is clothed in purple and scarlet,

bejewelled with gold
and precious stones and pearls,

and holds a golden goblet
in her hand.

And on her brow is written a name,
a mystery:

"Great Babylon, the Mother
of All Abominations on Earth."

The woman has drunken
of the blood of all the saints.

The woman is drunk
with the blood of the saints.

Doesn't sound bad, your offer.

It really doesn't sound bad, but...

There you are.
Then come with me,

and I'll show you the wonders.

I'd rather not.

Anything you could show me now
would only disappoint me.

Don't make the mistake
of promising too much.

Everyone knows then
he can only be disappointed.

But the sheer notion, buddy,
is a real turn-on.

I've got to hand it to you,

the idea is a real turn-on.

Always the same old tune:

the well-known difference...

between fantasy and sad reality.

A foreigner goes to a whore,

a Russian one, a fat, strapping one.

He keeps looking at her beaver.

And he says, "Boy, nice and woolly!"

And she says,
"Do you want to knit or to fuck?"

Hello!

Cheers!

What can I get you, sir?

Three beers and a Kümmel.

Three beers?

You heard what he said.
The gentleman wants three beers.

That's right:
three beers and a Kümmel.

Down the hatch!

Thank you, madam, but...

you don't need to say that.

I'm sure they'll go down well anyway.

The guy must really be parched.

A real soak.
You can tell right off.

He's obviously an alcoholic.

Baloney! He's just thirsty.

Where do you come from?

I come from the cellar,
from hops and malt.

Now I'm cool. How do I taste?

A little bitter,
but otherwise nice and cool.

Yeah, I'll cool you off.
I cool men off,

then I warm them up...

and relieve them
of superfluous thoughts.

Superfluous thoughts?

Yes.
Most thoughts are superfluous,

aren't they?

And where did they get you from?

They distilled me, my boy.

Oh, yes!

Sorry. Of course.

Pardon me.

You've got quite a bite, buddy.

You've got real claws.

Sure. I'm a schnapps!
Haven't seen one in a long time?

No.

I was almost dead, little schnapps.

Almost dead.

Set out without a return ticket.

Yeah, that's how you look!

Cut the crap,
"That's how you look!"

or I'll finish you off right away.
Come here!

Hey! Is that guy crazy?

What if he is?
Who isn't crazy these days?

The guy's your type, huh?

What if he is?

Oh, you're good, buddy!

You've got fire in you.

You had fire in you.

Better stop now.
Another couple of beers...

and maybe another Kümmel and a
corn, and you'll be smashed.

You reckon?

Yeah, he's right.

And you know how you'll look?

Do you want to be seen
in public like that?

Come on. Have another swig.

Okay, okay. I'm knocking it back.

I don't have to be told twice.

One thing after another.
Everything in the right order.

And you?

Don't you have anything to say to me?

Well...

Sure, I like you.

I believe you.

I believe you, my darling,
every word you say.

You're my little lamb.

Why don't the two of us
go out to pasture together?

Give me another beer, please.

If you ask me, he's off his rocker.

I told you, no more than anyone else.

Cut the crap!
Remember your Fritz!

- That's all I say.
- So what?

- Do you mind if I sit down?
- Go ahead.

I liked the way you did that.

Were you a beer or a schnapps
in your previous life?

I beg your pardon, madam.

There is no life before this one,
just like there's none afterwards.

Are you so sure about that?

Oh, yes. I'm quite sure.

That's the one thing in the world
I am sure about.

Say, where did you leave your arm?

Oh, my arm. I left it at home.

My girl wouldn't let me go.
I had to leave my arm as a pledge.

Well,
I hope it's as amusing as you are.

You bet it is! Haven't you heard?

I've opened a business with my arm.

It stands around all day
on the table,

vowing that only those
who work may eat.

Those who don't should go hungry.

That's what my arm insists.
Admission one nickel.

And the rabble comes and enjoys it.

How much was the beer?

One eighty.

Here. Keep the change.

Come on, then!
Let's get out of here!

A friend of mine used to have
a newspaper stand here.

Let's see if he's still here.

If he's a friend, you must know
whether he's still here or not.

Well, maybe not really a friend.

You never know for sure.

Look. He's still sitting there.

Look.
Snoozing in the middle of the day.

He's probably tired.

Yeah, probably.

Franz?

My God, Franz. You're back again.

And I thought I'd missed your funeral.

Counting your chickens
before they're hatched, eh?

It's good to see you back, Franz.
Really good.

But what's up?
What have they done to your arm?

My arm? You know,
it always bothered me. So I thought:

"Get rid of it altogether!
Then it won't bother you anymore."

Yeah, and they've cut off
my other ball, too.

You see,

we've both got a little less weight
to carry around.

Look over there.

Hey, Meck!

Excuse me a second.
I'll be right back.

Hello, Franz.

Strange. The last time we met
after such a long interval,

we greeted each other differently,
don't you think?

Well, yesterday was yesterday...

A girl sits in the kitchen.

Her mother has gone shopping.

The girl is writing in a secret diary.

She is 26 years old, unemployed.

The last entry, for June 10th, reads:

"I've been feeling better
since yesterday afternoon,

but the good days are so few
and far between now.

When my condition comes on,
I can't cope with anything.

The smallest things...

cause me great problems.

I'm tormented by the thought...

of doing something wrong and...

causing harm as a result.

August 14th:

For a week now,
I've felt very sick again.

I don't know what will become of me
if it goes on like this.

I think if I didn't have
anyone in the world,

I wouldn't hesitate to
turn on the gas.

I couldn't do that to my mother.

But I wish I'd get a serious illness
and die of it."

...and today is today.

Yeah, and tomorrow is tomorrow.
I know.

Is something wrong?

Have I done anything to you?

My God. Look at me, Meck.

Yes, that's better.

Have you heard anything about Cilly?

What's she doing?

I don't know exactly,

but I think she's doing fine.

I haven't heard anything from her.

- Are you still with Pums?
- Yes.

Shall I tell you what I'm doing now?

I've got plenty to do.

I work at the fairground
on Elbingerstrasse...

as a barker for the carousel:

"Fifty pfennigs a ride,
ladies and gentlemen!"

And over on Romintenerstrasse,
I'm the strongest one-armed man.

Come and see me there!
I started yesterday.

You can box with me.

Boxing with one arm?

Come and take a look!

What I can't cover up above,

I make up for with footwork.

I really make up for it.

Say,

what's up with you, Franz?

What should be up with me?

I'm starting up again like before.
Why not?

Or do you have some objection?

Come and take a look at me
boxing with one arm...

Or did you think I'm a eunuch,

because I've got only one arm?

Yeah, Franz, you sure had bad luck.

Well, that's how it has to be:

hard luck for some,
so that others get the breaks.

Maybe.

That's the way it is, Meck.
Believe me.

I can tell you a thing or two
about justice.

That sounds like you're mad at me.

Wrong, Meck.

Completely wrong.

Well, anyway, take care. Bye!

Oh, Meck.

Excuse me...
Just one more question.

I wanted to know
if you ever had a father.

A father? How do you mean?

It would have
interested me to know...

if you'd ever felt
what it's like to lose your father.

Just as a matter of interest.

I don't know what you mean.

It doesn't matter.
Just think about it.

Maybe it'll occur to you some day.

Either I'm a free man or no man at all.

There is a Grim Reaper whose name
is Death.

And now let's pull up our pants,

stand up straight and march into
Berlin.

You know what they did to my father?

He was shot in the belly. Bang!

And now he's short-winded.

But suddenly it's supposed to
be just a nervous illness.

So now they've reduced his pension.

Soon he won't get anything at all.

My God, nothing but cripples.

Cripples here, cripples there.

They shouldn't give a cent...

for cripples.

You're good! They drag you
into war, then don't pay!

Serves you right!
You don't get paid...

for other stupidities.

You were scarcely alive
during the war.

You were still in diapers!

As if that means anything.

That's not the point.

The stupid thing in Germany is
that they pay benefits.

There are thousands running around,
doing nothing...

and getting paid for it.

Just hold on a second, Willy!
What work do you do?

Nothing.

I don't do...

anything either.

And if they go on paying me,
I'll go on doing nothing.

That's why it's stupid
to give me anything.

Just tell me this guy's
not a big mouth!

Right!

Tell us, Franz...

You've got only one arm...

How much of a pension do you get?

Who wants to know?

That guy.
He's interested in the matter.

You're wrong there, madam.
I'm not interested at all.

All I'm saying is:
anyone stupid enough to go to war...

Forget it!

Now he's scared!

He needn't be scared of me.

Do you know where my arm is?

The one missing here?

I had it put in alcohol.
It's on top of the dresser at home,

looking down at me all day
and saying:

"Hi, Franz, you blockhead!"

Anyway, for my part,
I wasn't in the war.

I was in a Siberian prison
the whole time.

Now I live at home with my mother,
and I've got rheumatism.

And if they try to take away
my welfare money...

Boy, you're crazy!

How did you get your rheumatism?
From street trading, right?

In other words,
if you've got weak bones,

don't sell stuff on the street.

Maybe I should become a pimp?

Exactly!

No need to laugh.

There are worse jobs in the world.

Believe me.

God knows there are
worse jobs in the world.

Maybe you'll learn to
play pool one day,

though I don't see
much chance for you.

You know, you're only 10 to 12 years
younger than we are,

but you're a hundred years smarter.

Boys, if I'd dared talk like that,

when I was 20, it would have been:

"Hands out of your pockets
and stand up straight!"

It's the same with us,
only not out of our own pockets.

Tell me, sir, why must I love you?

Why, oh, why is my heart so true,

at every hour,

at every hour?

Why must I look at you as well,

just to keep you under my spell?

Why is it so?

My God.
Who'd have thought it?

What's the matter?

Nothing.

I once knew a girl
who looked just like her.

So similar.

I don't know why.

I don't know how.

I sway about the empty street.

I lose the ground beneath my feet,

for I am under your spell.

Yes, I am under your spell.

I ask you why.

Please tell me why!

What's up?

Has something happened?

No.

No, no. Nothing's happened.

Reinhold?

You knew he wasn't dead?

You knew it.

I don't know
what you're talking about, baby.

Who did I know...

wasn't dead, Cilly?

Yes,

you knew perfectly well.

You knew perfectly well...

that he was still alive...

Franz.

You knew it perfectly well,

and you deliberately didn't tell me.

Deliberately you didn't tell me.

You're a swine.

That's what you are, Reinhold,
a swine,

a miserable, dirty,

rotten little swine!

Why didn't he tell me?

Why didn't he tell me?

Why?

Picked that up cheap?

Three marks.

Fell off a truck?

That's none of my business.
Do you want one?

No, thanks.
So they can nab me and ask:

"Where did you get that watch?"

- He's afraid of a bit of theft.
- Cut it out.

He's got something against my watch.

For me, it's just a watch.
It works, and it's gold.

For three marks!

I'll show you something else.
Give me your glass!

Okay, now tell me what that is.

- A glass.
- Right. A drinking glass.

I wouldn't argue with that.

And what's this?

The watch. Are you putting me on?

Sure, it's a watch.

It's not a boot and not a canary,

but if you like,
you can call it a boot.

You can do whatever you want.
That's your business.

I don't understand.
What are you getting at?

You'll understand in a second.

Excuse me, madam.

Would you do me a favor?

Would you just walk around a bit?

Just walk.

Why? Why should I walk?

Just because.

I don't feel like it.

Don't put on such a song and dance.
Just go ahead and walk!

Okay, what did she do?

She stuck her tongue out at you:
"Bah!"

And what else?

She walked.

Okay, she walked.

I didn't walk at all. I was dancing.

You weren't dancing.
Since when is it dancing...

- when someone sticks out her butt?
- You're right.

When you stick yours out,
it's not dancing.

She was walking.

Well, I'd say she was marching.

Okay, so what's up now?

Nothing's up. You heard yourself:

walking, dancing, marching,
whatever you like.

And when someone takes
a watch from someone,

that doesn't mean it's been stolen.

It's been removed...

from a pocket or a display,

or from a store.

But stolen?

Who says so?

I assure you I don't.

And what do you say, then?

You heard me, "Removed."

"It has changed owners."
That's what I say,

And you with your one arm...

had to go off with the Prussians.
You fought in the war.

To my mind that's wrongful
deprivation of freedom.

But the courts and police...

are on their side,
and they can shut you up.

And suddenly it's not
"deprivation of freedom,"

but military service.

You have to do it, like paying taxes.
And where do they go?

Don't start talking politics,
not this evening!

Give it a rest.

I have to use the john.

Baloney, Willy!
The weather's far too nice for that.

Then go out on the street!

You think politics is just in here,

and I'm making it all up, right?

As if politics needed
me to make it up!

It pukes on you at every turn,

if you put up with it, that is.

For God's sake, stop it!

Let's drop the subject!
Shut up, all of you!

Well, you can kiss my ass.

I'm going.

When she comes back,
tell her it was nice,

but I've got other things
to take care of.

And if you have a spare moment,

I live at Achim-von-Arnim-Strasse 32,
at Mrs Bast's.

End of part 7