The ambulances come and go, loud as fuck, who knows where from and where to, day and night, weekdays and weekends, in meticulously selected random intervals, perfectly timed to disturb everything mundane. A sip of tea. A word. A kiss. Do you really have to, for the sake of a single man, aggressively remind the rest of the Universe of its heat death? Exhausted, I had to leave Boddinstraße, but it didn’t leave me: survivor’s guilt.