Eric drops in. I sit at the desk. He didn't change. He's still that tall gentleman, wearing the same sort of clothing he had four years ago, just as tall, just as gentle as he steps through the curtain of slabs introducing the fact that it's me who got to the place where he is, that I enter his idea of being there. He hasn't been to Flandria yet, phoned the girl at the desk and she said that 9 o'clock was cute and easy. The wall U6 planted in front of the hall inhales the fact of being there.
We take dinner in a nearby restaurant, have the daikon noodles and a beer, Eric a gush of gin on top of that.
I take notice of a lady of needless beauty.
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