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Transit. Is life really more than that? At some point one gets off a dark and wobbly vehicle, which is a bit later introduced as Mama, takes a few steps, stretches oneself, eats some tripe, has a toothache, exerts oneself a bit and then lays oneself once more in an equally dark and wobbly coffin – the wooden Mother for Eternity. If one has done everything right, then a few friends allow themselves to say goodbye by raising a toast of rum or caraway brandy – but if one has erred, then they have no time for toasting and opt to drink tea.

How weird, thought Maille – Gothic, no less. And what a luxury at this moment. Finally, he had a mission, a clear assignment in the truly crazy real world. Did a tree brood over what would happen or what it would be like some day in the distant future? Hardly: it was enough for it to be a proper tree here and now. Maille did not really feel like a tree at the moment, though. He felt more like an element in a photomontage, like a little GIF picture with a moveable frame that could, with the helpful tools of Drag and Drop, be stuck into any old landscape.

A few hours earlier in Sharjah, he had bathed in the warm waters of the Arabian Sea; now he was seated in Zurich airport, where snowflakes were drifting down onto the runways – and in a few minutes he would board his next flight for Destination «BKK», Bangkok Suvarnabhumi International Airport.

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