I felt like having the rice pudding on display. It looked like rice pudding. Bowls were arranged behind a glass. I had seen it in the window of another Turkish restaurant, and had wanted it then. I’ve never liked rice pudding. I never even had a sweet tooth as a child. I may have a sweet tooth now. Berlin gives me licence to experiment.

The rice pudding was minimally sweet – whoever had made it had decided it must look like rice pudding; the rest wasn’t his business. It tasted as I’d expected it to: a placid stickiness, not pleasant or unpleasant. One or the other would break the spell.

On my way home, I got off at Rüdesheimer Platz.

I’ve never alighted at these neighbouring stations – Breitenbachplatz, Rüdesheimer Platz, Heidelberger Platz – but study them when the train pulls up. The walls have no advertisements. They’re emblazoned with photos.

The pictures are very busy. Two large women; the hatted men crossing the road; the building coming up (or is it coming down?) – they’re what’s happening. They haven’t already happened.

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I get off, look around. There aren’t many others. It’s ten o’clock. I go up the escalator and feel a slight chill on my cheek. Outside, it’s dark, calm. I’m at the wrong stop. I’m surprised at the mismatch between what I saw below and the calm absence I find myself in. Is the absence Rüdesheimer Platz? I think, ‘Oskar-Helene-Heim,’ and add, ‘Idiot!’ I go down. I notice the train makes for me from the opposite direction. Wrong platform. I go up again and, crossing from one entrance to another, pass an unresisting membrane. I’m forgetful.

An email came to my inbox – from a sender I didn’t know.

‘Hello! We met after your inaugural talk, which I enjoyed very much! I love India, I spent three months in Tamil Nadu a couple of years ago. Now I’m on a postdoctoral fellowship and my research area, in fact, is labour movements in South India! I would love to go back. Anyway, Christmas is not far away, and such occasions are always a good excuse to get in touch. I thought I would wish you Merry Christmas and Happy New Year in advance! It would be lovely to see you again. I would be happy to show you around when you are free. Birgit.’

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Birgit? I studied the email as if it were her. I extrapolated her appearance from the message’s shape. I neither trusted the words nor my idle excitement. I’m wary of Europeans who ‘love’ India – an old neurosis. Christmas was a while from now. Still, I’d never before received an advance Christmas greeting, let alone a Christmas greeting as self-introduction. In my idleness, I thought I’d explore the invitation.

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