It was a while ago in Frankfurt, my favorite town of the old Bundesrepublik. I was at an opening, it was a presentation of carpets that I had made for E15, and there was a well-dressed man standing next to the bar. I was looking for the bartender, I wanted another Gin Tonic, I was at the point of asking the well-dressed guy if he knew where the bartender was – at that moment the guy moved to the other side of the bar and made me the most likely best Gin Tonic in my life. He did not say a word. I drank in silence. Then I tried to engage him in a conversation. His name is Alexander, and he produces this delicious stuff, the gin called Monkey 47. What a nice fellow, I thought, what a pleasant person – here with his colleague Christoph Keller (right). In Berlin, the city I hate, this mediocre place full of make-belief, there are very few encounters like that. Alexander told me very openly, very passionately about the production of his gin, about the specifics and about the dream of his youth. It was as if we knew each other forever. I could relate to the dreamer in him. His eyes were shining, there was a certainty in his look, as if this was the greatest truth on earth.