Folding Chairs By: Gunter Grass

How sad these changes are. People unscrew the name plates from doors, take the saucepan of cabbage and heat it up again, in a different place. What sort of furniture is this that advertises departure? People take up their folding chairs and emigrate. Ships laden with homesickness and the urge to vomit carry patented seating contraptions and unpatented owners to and fro. Now on both sides of the great ocean there are folding chairs; how sad these changes are.

Food for Prophets By: Gunter Grass

When the locusts occupied our town, no milk came to the door, the dailies suffocated, our jails were opened to release all prophets. They streamed through the streets, 3800 prophets, talking and teaching without restriction, and eating their fill of that gray & jumpy mess we called the plague. So everything was fine and up to expectations. Soon our milk came again; our papers reappeared; And prophets filled our jails.