They want me to stand up for them, to help them get their flight to Nairobi refunded, for our treaties to continue, for their to be money, and I can’t do anything because I don’t understand. The Chinese translator already left with the head of the Chinese media union yesterday evening. A woman of exceptional elegance, disapproving of me, and with a terrible smoker’s cough. Within 24 hours, they fly back and forth between Beijing and Nairobi, so that once more, as we assure each other jokingly, the planet will be destroyed by our flights before the signatures on the documents to safe it have even dried. But we work together to also save each other, both of us, and by the looks of it, as I look around, some more pre-modern project makers as well. The translator was still standing with me in front of the hotel, smoking, and said, if I knew what this was about I wouldn’t be here any more. In any case, he would by no means come back. The letters D&G glittered on his T-shirt, and I said: „I am so glad you are here.“ And he said: „I am not.“