I know the bars that aren’t too quiet but are not packed either. Where the men aren’t senile but neither are they cocky. The door swings open, I unbutton my coat, one drink is enough. The men are always willing. Always. You don’t have to complicate things. You don’t need any special chat-up lines. Nor a military campaign. They all just come along like pet ducks. Perhaps it’s sad. But mainly it’s comforting. I don’t know what I’d do without their perpetual zeal.

I like my solitary passage through the evening. When the rhythm speeds up and time seems to stretch out. The sluggish concentration. But on evenings like these I cannot be alone. Everything is made of cardboard. My belongings bare their teeth at me like vicious dogs. Eyes shut so I don’t scream. And then open again, breathe! Keep moving, don’t think too much. Each second can reveal new depths.