Are you flexible?

Just a little thought ...
What does "flexible" mean?
Let's check the dictionary:

1. capable of being bent, usually without breaking


2. susceptible of modification or adaptation; adaptable


3. willing or disposed to yield; pliable

I find it interesting the way it is used these days, especially in a business environment. When we write the word on our CV we mean the meaning no. 2.b above. "Keen, flexible professional ..." Companies also love using it. "Flexible tasks and working hours". But they use it more in the meaning of no. 2.a above.
And then there's the one that HR may use if they are not sure if or when they can hire you: "We need to decide this flexibly." And there's also the way your boss tells you that you'll spend some of the immediate portion of your life commuting back and forth to a customer site not knowing exactly when you'll start and when you'll have a life again. "You need to be flexible." Which meaning is that? Is it any of the above? Or does it mean: "required to put up with us pissing around until we can be hedgehogged to make up our minds"? Whatever it is, it should be in the next edition of the Oxford Advanced Learner's.
Like I said, just a thought.

Beast

A slightly different take on the classic. I guess I don't have to mention where this is from.

Once upon a time there was a forest. Long ago it had been lush and green. During day time golden sunlight had filtered through emerald leaves. Graceful deer had played in the clearings while squirrels had hectically darted up and down trees searching for their hidden treasures. Colourful birds had greeted every new day with their songs while at night owls bade it a hooting farewell. All this, however, was no more. The forest was now dark and forbidding. The trees had grown gnarled and twisted. Sunlight did not seem to reach the ground nor did moonlight sparkle on the hidden pools at night. Birds would not sing and deer dared not tread. Red-eyed wolves prowled the dark of night tearing all to pieces that they found.
In this forest there was an old tower. In fact, it may well have once been a mighty keep with turrets and battlements. Banners may have flown high in the breeze and even trumpets may have sounded at the return of the master of this place. Now, however, it was little more than a ruin. Flag poles were snapped, battlements crumbled. Even its mighty gates had rotted and collapsed under their own weight and the water of the moat had turned into a pungent cesspool shunned even by rats and devoid of any and all life. Only the tower still stood, rising above the crumbled remains of the other buildings like a hollow tooth in an old hag's mouth.
Still, no living being dared to set foot in that place nor so much as go near. The animals avoided it and travellers went out of their way to take the longer road around the forest and its tower. Because the old tower in the middle of the forest was the home of a beast.
It was a beast so terrible that nobody had yet claimed to have faced it and lived. Yet the stories about it were many. I was said to be so ugly that it would make mirrors shatter, milk turn sour or even make a man that laid eyes on it turn to stone. Its teeth were said to drip venom. Its breath was said to make flowers shrivel. And where it set foot, so people told, grass would instantly wither and die and not grow again for a year and a day. So vicious it was that even wolves and great bears were afraid of its bite and its claws. And when its roar echoed through the night it seemed as if the whole world fell quiet and held its breath with fear. It ate little children, some whispered. Others would assure you it fed on a single virgin once a year. Some claimed to have seen it stalk the little nearby villages at night in the guise of a lonely traveller and only the flicking tail from under its cloak would give it away. It was in league with witches, satyrs or even the devil himself people suspected. Within its tower it did unspeakable, unholy things. One thing, however, everybody agreed on: it was evil and deserved no pity nor mercy.
The beast had, in fact, once been a handsome prince, some old folks would tell. But the prince had been selfish and mean, deceitful and cruel. So, when one day an old crone came to his castle at the centre of the forest and had begged for a place in the stables that night he had turned her away and laughed. Then she was a crone no more but a beautiful sorceress and had laid on him a terrible curse. He would henceforth take the outward shape of what his heart was like inside. He would remain like this until his heart was finally cleansed by the flame of true love or he would die a hideous beast. Then she had vanished and his servants had fled in horror and he had been alone. Alone with his spite and his hate and his shame.
As years went by the castle fell into ruin and the longer he was alone the blacker his heart would grow and the more hideous he became. Heroes came to slay the terrible beast but he frightened them away easily or tore those to pieces that would not be daunted. But no maiden came to save his soul and there was no love in his heart. Eventually, he abandoned all hope that the curse would ever be lifted because who would ever love a terrible beast such as him?
Would it not have been a happy coincidence if, at this point, a fair maiden had got lost in the dark forest and somehow had found her way to the beast's castle? She would, of course, have been terrified by his appearance at first. But maybe she would have discovered that despite his roaring and beastly appearance and manners all the time spent as a loathed and feared monstrosity had changed him. Might she not have found that now he was merely a lonely, pitiful creature afraid to accept anybody's help? And indeed, she may have realised that he was a soul hoping to better himself and in search of a chance for redemption. She may have found a reborn, noble heart beneath the monstrous exterior - a heart worth forgiving, trusting and maybe even loving. Thus, after many years of imprisonment the curse might have eventually been broken and the beast released from its punishment. They might have lived happily ever after.
The truth is that maiden did come. Only what she found was not a pitiful, lonely creature looking for redemption. What she encountered there hidden in the dark tower living like an animal was a soul filled to the brim with bitterness and hate. Not with the world at large - that she may have understood, for a man can only spend so long in the body of a monster with all the world loathing him. But all his contempt was only for himself. There had been that beautiful sorceress once, though she was a sorceress only for enchanting him utterly. But despite his love for her he had been selfish and mean. And still she had stayed seeing the good in him and believing she could bring it out like a flower grows out of parched earth. But for every time he hurt her he found himself more and more unable to face his own reflection anymore. How could he deserve this woman's love? How could he accept what she gave him so willingly? Every harsh word he spoke cut him almost the same deep as it did her yet though he vowed to change he never did. He began to hate her for every time she forgave him. And he loathed himself for needing the love she would still give him and which he did not deserve. Nearly mad with shame and contempt he turned it all against her and made it her mistake. Every kind word or gentle touch he would shove back at her like a mouldy apple. Finally, she stopped smiling and her loving words dried out. Then he sank into a deep, dark sadness. It was only then when she found that he was in this place where she could not possibly follow him and remain sane that she abandoned him.
And it was that day, when he found her gone, that he turned into a beast. In a fit of grief and rage he smashed all the mirrors and windows, tore down the tapestries and paintings and burnt them and drove away all the servants. Only when he had finally destroyed everything beautiful and everything that could possibly remind him of her that he rested. That night was the first time his howl of despair was heard echoing through the forest. Living like an animal he drove everyone away regardless of whether they had come to harm him or help him. Years upon years he lived there haunted by memories that would not fade of mistakes he could not undo anymore. Even though she may have eventually forgiven him it was he himself that refused to be forgiven wearing his guilt like a self-flagellation, or a self-inflicted mark of shame. And possibly the only reason that kept him from taking his own life became a grim willingness to endure pain upon pain unto the bitter end.
When then the maiden did find him she found something far more terrifying than the monster from the legends. She found a soul who had by all his will shut happiness out of his life and destroyed everything that he loved so that the pain he would have to endure would have no end. The prince had cursed himself.

有朋 - If a friend ...

“有朋自远方来，不亦乐乎？”
"If a friend comes from afar would you not be happy?"
This famous quote by none other than the great Confucius himself adorns the arrival hall of Beijing Capital Airport. Printed on a huge banner it spans the lofty glass and steel heights above the immigration desks. Further back hang similar banners with words of welcome in various Western languages.
Welcome.
Bien venu.
Willkommen.
Unfortunately, the reality looks a bit different now. While it is still easy enough to obtain a Chinese visa, legislation concerning foreigners in the country has become more frustrating.
One is concerning hotels. Not just any hotel can accommodate foreigners. They have to be (for lack of a better word) "licenced" to do so. In the past, possibly in the run-up to the Olympics (when I was there last) this was not taken so seriously. Now, that the games are over checks have become stricter and more frequent. So, hotels are very strict about the matter. The same actually also goes for apartment complexes. Foreigners are not allowed to just live anywhere either.
I first found out about this because I was supposed to stay with a friend. I dropped my suitcase there after arriving but in the evening the guards (some young boys) would not let me in anymore. My friend kindly even called the supervisor but was told that, unfortunately, I would have to leave the next day and stay somewhere else. The first hotel I tried in that neighbourhood then also told me that they were sorry but they were not allowed to admit foreigners. Only a large three-star hotel finally took me in. I ended up spending more then 300 RMB for the night. But it got better. In Chengde me and a friend spent the better part of one evening trying different hotels - from small 50-RMB family run affairs to even a large three-star place. All were very apologetic but said it was not allowed. Foreigners, one young receptionist told me, could now only stay in hotels four-stars or better. Eventually, the cheapest such place we could find in Chengde still cost 480 RMB a night - a shocking more than 50 EUR!
The next shock was going online. I love net bars in China - I don't really know why but I feel a bit at home among the gamers and geeks. Now however, to use a net bar you need a Chinese national ID card (身份证), which is swiped when you pay and your ID number becomes your username. You can't do this with foreign passports, so those are disallowed. I find this a very worrying development since when your card is swiped it brings your photo and all your personal information up on the screen. This would give the government or police an incredibly powerful tool to monitor the web usage of each and every user. How much more Big Brother could it get?
Actually, I also wonder how backpackers these days get online - unless they stay at one of the youth hostels. In my time, I relied on the net bars to contact friends and family, check train schedules or look for hotels. Doing that offline would be a lot harder - especially if you don't speak Chinese.
Why am I moaning about this? People might say: "why not go to a country that has a more permissive legislation?" But actually, I love China. This time going back there felt a bit like returning home. Sadly, regulations like these are frustrating and make going back a bitter-sweet experience. My friend says things will change again. I hope for the better.

Welcome to Germany?

Trying to help somebody enter my country who requires an official permission to do so, a visa, has opened my eyes to what seems to be a strange imbalance. When I applied for my student visa to China in 2007 I needed my passport, a passport-sized photograph, a filled in application form, a letter of acceptance from my school and some €25 - 30. Now in reverse, to say for a Chinese citizen to apply for a European Schengen visa is a major pain is a major understatement (so let this be my apology to any Chinese citizens reading this). To apply for a similar student visa they need also proof of their livelihood: half a year as a student requires a balance of at least €7660 - the mind boggles at the number - or an official letter of invitation from a person or organisation in Germany that will provide for their livelihood. They need a letter from the school they enrolled at showing that they have paid their tuition fees in full (this may well not be a trivial amount either). They require evidence that they have bought German health insurance covering at least €30,000 plus repatriation. They require a complete curriculum vitae. Finally, the applicant must write a detailed explanation why he or she would like to study in Germany. It goes without saying that you need to bring various copies of all this. You then have to attend a formal interview with someone from the embassy where you will probably be further quizzed as to your motives and plans and whatnot.
Now I understand Germany wants to protect itself from "economic refugees". Those would be foreigners, mostly from poor, developing countries, who see Germany is wealthy, offers lots of social benefits and thus try very hard to sneak into the country and somehow become part of this system (preferably without putting in too much).
On the other hand, Germany has granted asylum to hundreds of thousands of foreigners, most of who have no means to support themselves, many even arrive with hardly any belongings at all. Furthermore, Germany is also inviting Russians of German descent to return to Germany, regardless of how long their family has lived in Russia. The German government provides for these people including food and housing. There have even been complaints that some asylum seeker housing was not as good as the average home of local people.
Now this is a difficult situation. We don't want to appear unkind. There are also still many Germans around who know what it is like to be a refugee because of war or persecution. We don't want to see other people in the world suffer. And since we are better off than many it is only right to offer aid and succor to those who need it. However, a number of these asylum seekers are just that kind of economic refugees that we are trying so hard to keep out. I really wonder just how many of them are these days. Moreover, many then proceed to bring over large families from their homes that also need support.
I want there to be no misunderstanding. I have no problem living in a multi-cultural nation. Most of my friends are not German. I would like to be able to say that visitors and permanent residents from other countries have enriched Germany with more than just cheap Chinese and Turkish take-aways. And I would welcome more cultural interchange.
However, why is it so complicated for a Chinese to come to Germany and visit a language school (or even just come for a holiday) whereas asylum seekers don't seem to be given much of a second thought. The fundamental difference is, of course, that the Chinese student comes to Germany to spend money whereas the average asylum seeker comes needing money. Again, I want to stress that I don't mean we should close our borders to people in need. There needs to be a reasonable limit to how much aid Germany can and will offer. We may look like a wealthy country to people in the developing world and the exchange rate makes us even more so. What many don't know is that Germany is itself struggling with some deep-seated financial problems like its health-care system or its old-age pensions (just to name a few). The government recently vowed to spend billions of Euros to help Greece and that was money they technically did not have. My point is that if the government continues to give away stuff (this also includes benefits and subsidies to Germans but that's yet another story) it will be us who will end up poor. And this will mean that we will have nothing left to give either.
I believe it is high time for a change of direction: to encourage people to come to Germany not to receive money but to spend it. I have spoken to some Chinese people who opted to go to Switzerland or Czeck Republic or other European countries simply because the German visa application is so complicated. Thus, entire groups of Chinese tourists or students wealthy enough to afford flight tickets, hotels or even tuition choose to spend their money somewhere else. Continuing to liberally admit asylum seekers may give us the moral higher ground to countries which choose not to but moral is not something a country can continue to exist on. Just as an example, the UK attracts thousands of foreigners every year by making education one of their major exports. I used to be one of them. Non-EU students sometimes pay in excess of £10,000 for a single year of higher education. A stupefying sum which does not even include living or housing, which then costs you a further arm and a leg. Teaching may only be average, the living standard may be low compared to other European countries but still they keep coming. They somehow manage to present little UK as the promised land. I think Germany really needs to rethink its marketing strategy.

Exotic Attraction

I was once asked by a - not very mature - German girl why it is that I've dated so many Asian girls and hardly any from my own country. She continued in this slightly disdainful voice: "Is it because they are quieter? Or because they are more obedient? Is it because men feel they can have their way with them more easily when a German (or European) girl would tell them to go to hell?" I don't remember what I answered then - and it doesn't matter since she wasn't really looking for an answer but rather an outlet for her prejudice. I also believe I noticed the looks some German girls will give me and my Chinese friend (really just that) when walking around Frankfurt. Look at him, they seem to say, someone got himself a little China doll.
Having seen what I have now on my trip to Egypt and in TV programs about holiday places like Morocco, I guess, I should have replied with another observation. Maybe it is something of the same reason that you see so many foreign girls - English or German or French or whatever - spending time getting close to young Arab men in places like Egypt. On one hand I've talked to quite a number of girls from China that said they have had or want to have a Western boyfriend from England, Germany, USA, and so on. On the other, many young Egyptian men have told me - even boasted - that they have had girlfriends or brief relationships with girls from those same countries. In both cases some of these have even led to a wedding.
The reason, or background, I believe, is essentially the same: that you look for something abroad that you feel you cannot find at home. Or you may go after a kind of exotic attraction. Whatever that may exactly mean to the individual.
What I find unfair then is those same girls getting judgmental on me for having a relationship with an Asian girl while they will go running after an Arab or Turkish guy - or Spanish or Italian - for their dark skin or temperament or colourful pick-up lines. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind it - everybody have to go after what they feel they need. I don't want this to become a nationalist or even racist argument. In fact, would it not be better to drop all these superficial cultural pre-occupations? I may not like seeing pretty German girls going to Egypt, Morocco, Spain or Italy for a little adventure. German girls may not like finding out that I seem to have had most of my relationships with girls from Asian countries. But those are no more than personal sentiments and that's the important thing to realise - and to accept. Maybe that way the sexes can achieve a truce over this.

Day After Tomorrow

Weather has been crazy so far this year. Incidentally, I just watched the movie The Day After Tomorrow. The film is about the end of the world because of drastic climate changes brought about by global warming and its effects. It starts out with massive storms until the temperature drops and the northern hemisphere is hit by another ice age. On the whole this probably was one of Emmerich's most overblown, silly films that I've seen. From a scientific point of view it may be complete bullshit.
But after watching it I did start thinking about the weather in slightly different terms. Come to think of it, this winter in Germany has been the harshest I can remember in my lifetime. It started snowing in November already. It was so sudden and much that the crews at Frankfurt airport nearby couldn't cope and lots of flights were cancelled. Then after a brief period of warmer weather it started snowing again in January. This time it was even more. The temperature dropped below -10 degrees at night - something that is extremely rare in these parts of Germany. Over the course of one weekend we had more than 10cm of snow. Several hundred flights were cancelled. And more just kept coming down. Eventually, communities, especially in the temperate Rhine Valley even began running out of grit and salt to sprinkle the roads. The were loads of accidents during January and February. On the road or motorway because some cars and many foreign trucks were not equipped and didn't have the right tyres for driving on snow. Some even on the sidewalk where people slipped and fell because the bottom layer of snow had been compacted into a sheet of ice.
Now that the snow has finally melted the country is beginning to face new weather problems. Violent gales on Friday and today have disrupted traffic because trees were uprooted or broke and fell on the road or rails. I consider myself lucky to have made it home with main line trains delayed and local public transport disrupted, too. I'm sure people have been hit by falling branches.
Of course, these are all small things. There have been much more severe natural disasters like recent hurricanes and flooding. But even these small events - do they indicate a gradual change in climate? Have we been too reckless with our planet and are we beginning to see the consequences? It probably won't happen as quickly or drastically as in the movie but probably the solution to the problem won't be as easy as in the movie either and there probably won't be hero to save mankind. It's interesting that my friend has just had to write a short essay on climate change and the Copenhagen Climate Conference. Maybe it's really time we sat down and talked about solutions instead of talking about politics.

Digital Handcuffs

How many of you know Steam - the Steam client? Probably it's something that is only gamers will come across. It's also the cause of much annoyance to gamers. Why? Because it makes even a legally purchased game a pain in the arse.
To fully appreciate this you have to know some background of copy protection mechanisms.
The earliest I know of is the product key, a long string of characters that you'd find on the packaging or manual of the software you purchased. To be able to install the software you have to enter the correct key. Clever hackers get around this with key generating programs, lists of OEM keys or even by applying a patch (crack) to the game executable itself. You do this once and you could play the game in the same way as a legitimate version.
Some games (I remember Flashback) would ask for keys from the manual during game play but you could just copy the manual from someone who had it.
With Windows XP and Office XP Microsoft then came up with their activation mechanism. You still had to enter your product key at install time. But this would only allow you to use the product for 14 days. During that time you should connect to an online service of Microsoft and let Windows authenticate your copy. However, not all users have access to the Internet, so there was also an option to activate Windows by phone where some values had to be entered manually. Together with some registry tinkering this could then be exploited to get a pirate copy activated. Since no Internet connection was assumed the keys would not be checked a second time.
Back to the present day. Some time ago Valve came up with a new method to authenticate a game. They developed a client program - the Steam client - with which each game would integrate. At install time you'd still enter your game's product key. This must then be associated with a Steam user account. The game can then only be launched through Steam. To play, the Steam client connects to its server somewhere and checks the running game's product key against the logged in user account. The idea is obviously that to create a pirate copy of the game you not only need the product key of the copy you're using but also the credentials of the user who first registered that copy. You couldn't even feasibly lend a game to your friend without giving him (or her) access to your Steam account. And to make sure you always play with a legitimate version Steam does the authentication every time you play the game.
If this was all, it would be annoying but I guess I could live with it. But it's not.
Steam wants your games to be up to date. This means if there is an update for a registered game available it forces you to download the update before you can launch the game. You can't say no, you can't postpone (even Microsoft lets you do that). If that then means that you have to download an update of several hundred megabytes, tough shit. You then have time to go and have dinner or something. To give you an idea, the first patch for Dawn of War II was about 1000mb. I read a blog entry by a user who still happened to have a dial-up connection. You can imagine he was not happy (he did use the f-word a lot).
Steam itself also wants to be up to date. When the client starts it insists on checking for, downloading and applying any available updates. Again, vetoing or postponing are not possible. If the update fails for any reason (and the Steam website lists a number of them) then the client will not start and you won't play your game either. This happened to me yesterday. Some Windows 7 permissioning or AVG's resident guard function interfered with the Steam update. The problem fixed itself eventually but I was left sitting there for one hour or more not being able to play a game that I had acquired perfectly legally. You can imagine I was not happy (and I also used the f-word a lot).
What's my point with this? My point is that I'm annoyed and a lot of other users are, too. On their Steam website Valve may go on and on about the benefits of Steam like creating a gamer community, having a central facility to manage your games and their updates, buying games directly through Steam and various little discounts and perks. However, I can get a lot these in other ways if I want them. All this does not compensate the fact that I have here a legally purchased game and I'm having trouble accessing it. There have already been reports that Steam authentication for various games has been cracked. Those who play the pirate versions may not be able to use the online features but they don't have to put up with the Steam client's whims either. I've read various comments by users who bought a retail copy of a game but then downloaded a crack because Steam was making it difficult or impossible for them to play. In the end, the ones left looking rather stupid are those gamers who buy a legal copy and then sit in front of their computers swearing and cursing Steam. I realise, like many gamers do, that piracy is a problem but like this game developer companies are basically punishing those gamers who choose to buy a legal copy of their games. It's a bit like putting handcuffs on me every time I want to ride my own bike and then forcing me to polish it and the handcuffs before I'm allowed to set off.
My conclusion: I love the Dawn of War series but that is the only reason I put up with this. I will not buy any other games with the Steam logo on them.

Just One Step

Once again, this was inspired by some real feelings I've had. If I'm really down I can sometimes feel like the whole world hates me and every little thing I do is wrong. There are two sides to most things and always more than one way to solve every problem. The conflict is which side you choose believe. A song by Meatloaf I like a lot is "Life is a Lemon", which is also along similar lines. So this is about taking these thoughts and feelings to the extreme and adding some flavour to the mix.
Don't be alarmed. I'm not planning anything rash.

There was a gasp from the crowd below. Slowly, almost carefully so, the young man lifted one leg and was now straddling the railing. He seemed to hesitate there for a moment gazing absently at the spectators. Then, as if reaching a conclusion, he brought the other leg across. Turning he was now standing on the twenty centimetres of ledge. Beyond that right in front of him gaped the abyss of some thirty floors and the throng of upturned faces below. The young man stood there motionless for a while gazing downward while they stared up at him. He was clutching the cold metal of the railing with both hands leaning slightly forward.
The wind carried with it the sound of distant sirens. They were coming to talk him out of it with false care on their faces and their questions and false morality. It was almost the same as in the movies. You don't have to do this or Let's talk about this. Why did they have to make such a fuss? Why could they not accept a man's decision and leave well alone? It had been difficult enough to get this far. Why make this last step any harder? As he thought about this he watched the crowd. Sometimes a shout would carry up to his position. They were waiting. Just waiting. A single tear rolled from the corner of his eye down to the tip of his nose, hung there for a second or two, then plunged downward to hit the ground roughly in the place where he would soon follow. His vision suddenly blurred. It would have to be now then. Before they began bothering him. He took a deep breath.
There was a rustle behind him as of a great bird flapping its wings. He did not turn around.
Then a gentle, strangely androgynous voice behind him said: "You do not have to do this, you know."
They had come earlier than expected. He sniffed, wiped his face with one hand smearing the tears.
"Leave me alone", he said hoarsely. When there was no immediate reply he continued: "Why can't you people accept that this is what I want?"
The gentle voice replied: "Because we know of your suffering but also of the conflict within you."
It burst out of him then: "That's bullshit! Just - you know - piss off! You know nothing about me."
The voice replied with unperturbed patience: "I know more than you think for I have faced difficult times with you before - even though you may not remember."
Something in the tone in which the person spoke made the young man turn around. He faced a young - he was not entirely sure whether the person on the other side of the railing was a very slender, delicately shaped man or a woman with a stronger than average build. The face was narrow with high cheekbones, elegantly curved lips and wide eyes - features that were best described with the word noble. The hair was a flood of nut brown that was tied into a tidy pony tail and seemed to have a golden sheen to it. The most remarkable, however, were the eyes, which were the rich colour of ember. The person was dressed in a lightly coloured, casual smart suit without a tie.
The young man squinted.
"Who are you", he demanded, "you're not from the police."
His opposite smiled warmly revealing pearly white teeth.
"You could say I am one who have been watching over you for a very long time. We have faced great trials together before. You trusted me then, so I hope you will confide in me again today. The name by which you may remember me is Raphael."
"I don't remember you", the young man said with coldness in his voice. Then he sighed.
"Look, I don't know what you're trying to do. Your little good deed for the day. Save a lost soul. Or if it some sick voyeurism. I don't care." He paused for a moment, then went on almost reluctantly: "Stay or go - just leave me alone."
With that he turned back to the thirty floor abyss.
"Why am I here", Raphael replied calmly and went on to answer his own question, "because I believe in the sanctity of the human soul. Because I believe that life is a gift, an opportunity, that should not so easily be squandered."
The young man gave a sour laugh.
"Oh, great, a religious fanatic", he mocked, "please don't start preaching that what I'm trying to do is a sin and I'll go straight to hell for it. I'm going there anyway", he added almost under his breath.
"That is not what I was trying to say", Raphael replied in his gentle voice. "Moreover, I am asking you to stop for a moment and think. Think of your life, your life's history, how it has been unique to you, like that of every other man and woman in the world. Think of the impacts you have made and those that you may yet make. Why would you deserve this?"
The young man was silent for a while. His head bowed, then his vision blurred again as his eyes filled with tears once more.
"I fucked it up, that's why", he exclaimed in a voice that was breaking into a sob. "I fucked it all up."
Raphael drew closer, however without touching the young man, and bent over the railing slightly so as to look him in the face.
"What makes you say that?"
The young man sobbed harder this time, trying to hide his face in his hand while still holding on to the railing with the other.
"I look at other people. I see what they have. I see what they are. All I have, all I am is a pile of shit."
"What is it that they are, that they have that you do not?"
The young man sniffed and wiped at his tears with the back of his hand. He was still staring vaguely downward not meeting Raphael's gaze. He sobbed again and more tears came.
"They have a life worth living", he stated, "they have a good job, they have money. They have friends that respect them, a family that is proud of them -" His voice broke again at this point. "- a girlfriend that loved them."
He could speak no further.
"And you have none of these? Surely, you have work and a salary that pays for a comfortable apartment and holidays in interesting places."
The young man replied desolately: "My job is shit. My colleagues think I'm weird. My boss gives me the tasks that no one else wants. He thinks I'm a lazy idiot - which I probably am. It's the only job I could find. Great, isn't it? Your parents pay for education abroad, at good universities, and you end up in some thankless shithole while all your course mates work for big, multi-nationals."
"And you envy them for that?"
The young man hung his head.
"No. I wouldn't be able to stand the pressure anyway. I'm just not good enough."
"But your family does not accept that", Raphael persisted in a soft voice.
"It doesn't matter", replied the young man in bitter tones, "they praise whatever I do. It doesn't mean anything. I know that deep down I'm just one big disappointment to them."
"They have told you that?"
"I can see it in their eyes", the young man replied sharply, "I can hear it in the way they lecture me on everything. 'Cause I can't do things right."
"And your friends then? They respect you."
"Respect." He spat out the word like something disgusting. "That's right: they are polite. They don't really care about me. They never write, they never call, they never want to come to see me. Shouldn't that be what friends do? Instead, I always have to run after them. They don't pick up the phone, they don't return calls. A guy I've known for fifteen years doesn't even reply when I write to him. Some friends I have."
"You know he is busy with his work", Raphael gently objected.
"Too busy to hear his fucking mobile", the young man almost shouted.
There was a pause. Then he continued, his voice tiny: "You know what? I just turned thirty. I always imagined for the big birthdays I'd also have a big party like my other people have. Lots of friends, drinks, laughter. Actually, I've spent most of my birthdays alone. People don't come. I could invite them and pay and they wouldn't. One close friend cancelled at short notice because of some stupid excuse. Another I practically had to beg to come. I ended up sitting there with two guys - and they didn't look too happy either."
"Sometimes a few good friends who truly appreciate you are worth more than many acquaintances who do not", Raphael explained.
"They don't", the young man snapped, "they don't understand me anymore. Maybe they never did. I've never been close to any of them. Now I've changed. I can't even relate to them anymore."
"They still make an effort. And how about the friends you have in other places? They are people that care about you, too."
"Yeah, sure. It's so easy to seem like you care when chatting online. You can send all these hugs and smiles and really you don't give a shit. Most of them don't really reply to my emails either. And how many of them have really made the effort? How many have been here to see me, even though I invited them more than once?"
He laughed bitterly.
"How many of them can come to see you", Raphael pointed out soothingly.
"Yeah, but it comes to the same, doesn't it", the young man countered, "they are all far away. They will soon forget me, too. If I didn't keep in touch they wouldn't bother. Do you know how many of them actually still remembered my birthday this year? It's fewer and fewer every year. How long until I end up alone?"
"Those that mattered did remember you, did they not", said Raphael.
"No", the young man shook his head, his face a grimace of pain. He sighed deeply, then continued: "Not all that mattered."
"All but one", said an unpleasant voice right next to his ear.
The young man was silent, thinking back, remembering. Then he said in a small voice: "Her."
"Her", echoed the new voice. It had the same genderless quality as the first but there was a sharp edge to it reminding the young man somehow of a rusty saw.
"She forgot your birthday, didn't she", the new voice went on.
The young man nodded sadly.
"Yes", he whispered and sniffed again, "she had promised she'd call me on my birthday, so I wouldn't feel lonely without her. She promised. And then she just forgot. Just like that."
"That's bad", the new voice admitted, "she's the person - the woman - you love most in the whole world. Why would she do that to you?"
The young man hesitated. His lower lip was trembling a third time.
"Because she doesn't love me back", he finally uttered.
"She did call you later", Raphael quickly interjected, "she did say she was sorry."
"She says these things to please me", the young man returned, "because I want to hear them. She doesn't mean it. She speaks of finding someone to love as if I didn't exist; that if she finds a more suitable guy she will just marry him... I miss her so much. I just don't know what to do."
"Are there not other girls that love you", Raphael asked, "are there not several girls that still even now hope you will love them back?"
The young man gave another bitter laugh.
"Yeah. But they are not her. I can't get her out of my head." After a pause he continued: "Well, I guess I don't deserve any better, do I?"
"And why would that be", inquired the unpleasant voice innocently.
This time the young man turned to face the newcomer for the first time. There was a striking resemblance to Raphael about him, the young man noticed. It was almost impossible to guess the gender. From the dress style he should be male, wearing a dark red shirt under an open, dark suit jacket. His skin was smooth and almost the colour of bronze with medium-length jet black hair that was slicked back out of his delicate face. His eyes seemed to smoulder in their sockets when the young man met his gaze. This would probably the only man who would fit the word beautiful.
"Who are you?"
"Oh." The one in red waved away the question and gave a brilliant smile. "We're all friends here, aren't we? We don't need to bother with names. 'Pleased to meet you, hope you guess my name', as the song goes."
The young man turned away again, averting his gaze, as if he could not stand looking the other in the eye. For a while he was silent. The sirens were nearer now.
"You were saying", the one in red prompted.
The young man squeezed his lips together for a moment. He closed his eyes as if in shame when he spoke again:
"I've lied to them. To all of them. And cheated on them. I've used them and made them cry and hurt their feelings."
With each new confession he seemed to double over a bit more as if under the lashes of a whip. The one in red nodded quietly.
"And now you wonder what you have become."
"Yes!" The man's voice was almost a tortured cry.
"I have become all these things that I swore to myself I'd never ever become."
"It is not too late", Raphael said consolingly, "you may have departed from the right path but you can still return to it. Tell them the truth. In time they may come to forgive you."
The young man went on as if he had not heard.
"They always tell me I'm such a good guy, that I have such a kind heart, that I'm being so nice to them. If they knew the truth they'd never forgive me."
The one in red nodded again.
"Probably not", he concurred.
"They'd hate me", the young man continued.
"Yes."
"They'd never speak to me again."
"No."
"Then I can't." The man's voice was no more than a tearful whisper. "I need them. Without them I'll be all alone."
"Lying is a horrible thing to do", the one in red explained in his quiet, razor-sharp voice, "once you start ... it's hard to stop."
"It takes great courage to tell the truth", said Raphael solemnly, "you have done it now, before me and you can do it again."
"I can't", the young man insisted, his body contorting with his sobs. There were no more tears.
"Because you'd do it again, wouldn't you", the one in red coaxed him on.
"Yes." It was as if the young man was vomiting forth confession after confession.
And the one in red would not stop: "You enjoyed the attention you got, didn't you?"
"Yes."
"You wanted them all for yourself."
"I'm greedy", the young man stated with a voice full of contempt, "and I'm selfish. Conceited ... and cruel. And so fucking selfish."
After a brief pause he suddenly he cried out: "I'm evil!"
"You feel guilt", Raphael objected, "evil does not feel remorse. People believe in you because they can see that good in you."
The young man turned on Raphael, angrily now.
"It's because they all don't know the truth", he shouted, "ask my parents if I'm really being a good son to them. Do you think my girlfriends -" he emphasised the s "- would still see the good in me if they knew -" His voice faltered.
"- that you fucked others girls behind their back", the one in red offered helpfully.
The young man nodded. He seemed almost afraid to look at either of the others now.
"Isn't it funny", he began again in a small, bitter voice, "that the people I'm nicest to are actually my friends? And from them I get nothing in return. It's like Karma. All your bad deeds come back to you somehow sooner or later. And I've just done too many."
"That does not mean you deserve to die", implored Raphael, "we have defeated evil before. Trust me and together we will today conquer the evil within. Take my hand."
He reached out a pale hand. The young man ignored it, shaking his head sadly. His chest heaved a sigh of resignation.
"There are so many feelings I've hurt, hearts I've broken, chances I've missed. Maybe I once had a life full of potential but look at it now: I'm just some lonely, fucked-up looser. And one day I'll die and there will just be me in a box in a hole in the ground. And nobody will miss me or be sad."
He stared unseeingly at the abyss and the crowd and the street far below. The one in red bent over the railing as if following the young man's gaze.
"That's why you -", he motioned towards to deep drop. The young man shrugged wearily.
"Might as well make that day today. Might as well do something brave now. Look at them. They don't care. They're laughing at me. They all think I'll come back down, that I don't have the guts to do it."
"You are wrong", Raphael declared gently intoning every word, "they are horrified. They hope you will not do this thing that they cannot understand. They pray that you will not waste your life like this."
The young man looked up at Raphael doubtfully.
Suddenly, a taunting shout echoed above the din of the crowd, traffic and sirens: "You piece of shit! Just jump if you got the balls to do it!"
The young man flinched as if in physical pain.
"You see", he said with a sad smile. Tears were welling up in his eyes for the last time.
"People is waiting. At least, this once I won't disappoint them."
With that he let go of the railing.
"No!" Raphael cried out losing his calm for the first time.
Almost as if in slow-motion the young man's figure tilted forward. Then he began his long tumble, spinning slightly, his clothes flapping about his frame, until he was just a small speck. A many-throated scream rose from the crowd.
Raphael turned away from the view. His face was like stone, his lips pressed tightly together. The one in red, however, had a smug little smile on his features as he adjusted his suit.
"I didn't think he had the guts to do it."