I, Adolf Hitler, on the day of my fiftieth anniversary, I know nothing about nothing, not even if I am human. I have never directly seen my face. I have never spoken with any other organ than a tongue. I am not sure I had parents, that people exist when I am not around, that I will disappear after my death. I would like to want nothing- to become heavy, frozen, and predictable. But there will always be a fraction of a second when I will not know what is going to happen. I have a nosebleed. It is dawn in Berlin. I await the Russians. I would like to be dispossessed. I would like to become a man without a history.