I am baffled. Now I could really use this fancy Château. »Every...« I read aloud and suddenly notice that the gentleman had vanished. Strange, I didn’t happen to notice it before; I must have been completely absorbed and absent minded! The wine in the bottle is vanished as well, but here I do know the reason, its contents found its way into my stomach. One more bottle, yes, I could definitely handle that. As if the waiter foresaw it, he arrives at my table, holding a bottle of red Château smack under my nose.

  »That is our best wine and well known, Sir«, he tells me.

  »Yes, yes«, I stammer. »But the price is well known to me too and that will do no good to my wallet.«

  »Please don’t worry, Sir. The bill has already been paid in advance. The gentleman in the white suit already took care of it. And I shall send you dear and sincere regards.«

Well, well, well, the bill for that exclusive wine already paid in advance? Why do I deserve this honor? Maybe it has something to do with that Black Writings? Could this be any magical book? Thrilled, I start to study the book. I soon find myself in somewhat mental confusion, because obviously the opposite is written here, the complete opposite of what the preacher on the train had tried to explain to me.

  I am done with it in roughly an hour, and I am done with the wine, too. The Château ain’t too bad, but one has to celebrate those wines, and not only simply get plain pissed drunk by gulping them down.

I pay my open bill and climb upstairs to my floor, my condition is great. Arriving back in my room, I put both books on the night cupboard, turn the jabber-box on and do some serious zapping around. Then, suddenly Motörhead! On MTV, a rerun of the very rock show that was on yesterday. Suddenly a though shoots straight through my head, man, this bassist and singer Lemmy shows a fatal facial similarity to the gentleman in the white suit. Only strongly differentiated by their hair cuts. Well, I cannot figure shit out right now. I switch and switch and switch, but find nothing of interest. Now, sexually aroused, a woman wouldn’t be bad, right here and now. The TV is turned off; I take a quick shower in the bath, before I knock myself out on the bed, only dressed in my underpants. Thus well adjusted and comfortable, I have the whole day pass again in front of my inner eye. Then I start to consult myself, whether I shall engage in any further undertakings. Go visit the hotel bar or maybe a club? There’s a knocking at the door. But, man, wait, who can that be now? The bathrobe is put on fast and more than thrilled and expectantly I do open the door.