Herzog trained that chicken, the one is Stroszek – did you know that?, W. says. For months, he would train it, withholding the food it would usually get after its dance, in order to extend the dancing period.
Herzog talks of finding images adequate to the world, W. says, to the horror of the world and the horror of the cosmos. The chicken is cosmic, that's what we have to understand. The image of the chicken, the dancing chicken, is everything.
W. dreams of a thought that would the equivalent to that image. A thought, a single thought, adequate to the disaster, equal to it … In some sense, W. says, we'll have to exhaust thought. We have to run it ragged, right to its very end, like the car Bruno set running in circles outside the arcade. It has to run until it burns, until it catches fire. Then and only then something might happen.
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