“Hello,” I said in English, “I’m sorry. I don’t speak Japanese. My name is Luisa and I’m calling from Germany.”

“No problem,” the cheerful voice said. “Hello.”

“I would like to speak to Frederik,” I said into the receiver in the darkness before the window, “to Monk Frederik.” And it sounded like I wanted to speak to a mountain named after Frederik.

“No problem,” the voice said again, and I liked the way there apparently seemed to be so few problems in Japan.

For a very long time I heard nothing but rustling. While the cheerful voice was looking for Frederik, I looked for a cheerful opening sentence. I should have thought of it earlier. I should have worked on a first-rate opening sentence with Selma and the optician, but now it was too late. Now there weren’t even any second-rate opening sentences to be found in the thicket of darkness outside the window. “Hello, Frederik,” I thought, “I have a technical question about Buddhism; Hello, Frederik, so, how was your flight?; Hello, Frederik, about Hessen  .  .  .” Another monk who wasn’t Frederik came on the line.

“Hello,” he said, “how can I help you?”

“Hello,” I said, and explained that I wanted to speak with Monk Frederik.

The monk passed the receiver to yet another monk, still not Frederik, and so it continued until I’d said hello to six monks. The last monk also said, “No problem.” Then in the background I heard rapid steps and I knew they were Frederik’s.

“Yes?” he said.

I gripped the receiver in both hands. “Hello,” I said, and then nothing more.

“Hello, Luisa,” Frederik said, and because it was so obvious, he understood right away that I didn’t have an opening sentence. In the blink of an eye, he took over and simply pretended he had called me.

“Hello,” he said, “it’s Frederik. I just wanted to ask how Alaska is doing.”

My hands stopped trembling. “Thank you,” I said. “Thanks so much.”

“No problem,” Frederik said.

“Alaska’s fine. Are things fine with you, too?”

“Things are always fine with me,” Frederik said. “And you?”

I leaned my forehead against the window. “Can you see anything?” I asked.

“Yes, the sun is shining. I have a view of the wooden hut. Its roof is covered with moss. Behind it are mountains. I can see the waterfall.”

“I can’t see anything,” I said, “it’s pitch-dark. What time is it?”

“It’s ten in the morning.”

“It’s two in the morning here.”

Frederik laughed and said, “We should find something to agree on.”

I sat on the windowsill. The blank my mind kept drawing sat beside me and said in a voice like Marlies’s: “Here I am. It’ll never work. Get used to it.”

“What can’t you see?” Frederik asked.