March

Where once was a lush garden, there is now an overgrown lot. It belongs to Ann and Thomas. Each year, for Sylvia's birthday, the old friends come together here, toasting and waiting for the marching band. This year, Irmelin will be marching for the first time, she is Ann's daughter, sired back then, in free and happy times, by either Klaus or Thomas. To this day, nobody knows exactly who of the two men is the father.

By now, the friends are in their fourties, and the fleeting lightness has long gone out of their love affairs. Everthing is the same, but nothing is as it used to be: Klaus, after going steady with Sylvia for years, still desires Ann, Thomas begins a halfhearted affair with Katja.

The erstwhile promises of happiness have not been fulfilled. The years and events, which Daniel Mursa interweaves and overlaps in March, are all too similar, until it becomes evident: There will be no new beginning, only variations of the past, and wrecked friendships. But despite that, the characters might come to terms with living their lies, were it not for Irmelin, the silent witness, who sees what she is not supposed to see, thus holding a very unflattering mirror to the grown-ups.