I’m hardly in touch with old people. I mean, people above the age of 70. Recently, on a train ride in the Ringbahn, I got in touch with one: A woman, who must have been 80-something. She had noticed me reading a text in Hebrew. “Oh is this really the time for studying?”, she was yelling! “You look tired, boy. Come on, Take this.” She took a small mandarin out of her bag, quickly peeled it, ate the inner, took my hand, and started to ream the peel on the spot between my thumb and forefinger. “It’ll wake you up”, she said. “Do it yourself, but on your forehead, you’ll see, it works!” We talked, I found out she was born in the Soviet Union, had lived in Berlin for about 50 years and had worked as a simultaneous translator, language teacher, journalist, comic-editor. Since she thought I came from Israel we spoke English – she recommended me Dickens: “His works as a journalist and comic-novelist are totally underestimated! Just read The Amusements of the people.” As soon as we cleared that I’m German, she insisted I should read Feuchtwanger (I didn’t ask). And telling her about friends in Russia, she started with Dostojevski, how badly he treated women, but that she actually studied the idiot for decades. Until she finally came to some secret conclusion about the book, but no, she couldn’t tell me – “You should read yourself. When I worked in translation in Ost-Berlin, I couldn’t always do my job 1:1. Sometimes you need to know how to hide, cover, not say it all. Reveal smartly, so you won’t get in trouble. That’s how you should do it with books, you know, don’t force them to come. Give them the space until they come to you!” The conversation went on like this for a little while, when finally the mandarin-woman and me had the same stop, and – good boy – of course, I helped her down the escalator, over the street, home. She was moving very (!) slowly, honestly: she could hardly walk. I must have underestimated her age, since she was just bubbling of stories and ideas. I brought her to some filthy hotel at S-Bahn-Sonnenalle, where she was living. “It’s just a makeshift”, she said. “For a little while until I get out of Berlin. It’s getting to tight and aggressive for me.” – “So you’re looking for a flat?”, I asked. “No boy, I’m not looking for, I’m finding a flat!” We had some last chit-chat on Kreuzberg, the origin of names, Vladimir Putin. I was super late, but hey, how often do you do such things? I learned how to say Farewell in Russian (Do’Sedanja I Sivo’horoshewo – something like that) and switched back to the U. Pretty inciting, that mandarin.