XXXVII

The call was loud and clear. As the last cowboy from Gütersloh I heard it many times. In my head, it spoke to me: "Go West, young man". It was a giant cigarette billboard. So I started to smoke and faced west, looked at the horizon, and it spoke to me again: "You want to smoke a cigarette when you're all alone in the desert and the sun is blaring in your face." This made no sense, so I wondered what it actually is that speaks to you out West. Why do you want to go where the sun sets? This improvised symphonic poem for the piano forte gives the answer and reveals all my adventures in the West of the United States of America in an easy to follow fashion. I give you a final hint: It is structured like a sonata and does not involve any horses.

XXXVII