A mother holds her adult son in her arms. He is dead, as soon becomes clear; she has cared for him during the last months of his illness. Before the old woman calls the doctor, she begins a final conversation with her son, a monologue that becomes a reflection and a memory: of a life alongside a war-injured man, of the textile business they ran together in post-war Germany, of the joy of acquiring a piano, "something lasting," glossy black and for the only son she loved, who nonetheless remained a stranger to her. For his existence may be due to a traumatic experience of violence that has haunted her throughout her life. "Dawn" takes us to the heart of Hans-Ulrich Treichel's writing, bringing us close to the pain points of loss and alienation. It is the poignant, deeply sad narrative of a.