She says: “Your apartment is just too small.” He says: nothing for now. In one of the next scenes he is sobbing while crouching in the sitz bathtub. The ceiling in his Lilliputian booth feels like it’s one and a half meters above the floor. The bed is the size of a child’s bed. Even the cacti look sad. Everything here is limited – or in the language of the Federal Statistical Office: cramped. So she says: “I can’t do this anymore. Sorry.” It’s over.
Housing shortage can be easily solved – culture
