We went to see the Trial (Der Process) by Franz Kafka in the Schauspielhaus Zürich. They played well, but something was missing. The desperation, the solitude? The solitude of today which probably was already the solitude of Josef K. I asked a young couple (or maybe it was not a couple at all, who knows) for a cigarette for a friend as they were sitting outside a bar (and what are you doing outside a bar if not smoking? Kissing maybe). They didn’t have any. But when we passed them again something unexpected happened. The guy approached us and told us with his heavy Zurich dialect that he went to buy cigarettes because we asked them earlier and he gave us one, laughing. It was probably not exactly the opposite of Kafkaesque, it was pure (what would be the opposite of Kafkaesque anyway?). It was a moment of surprise, almost of joy. A Jean Seberg moment selling the International Herald Tribune (which finally was replaced by the International New York Times on Tuesday).