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Okay, after a week of consideration, pondering, or call it worrying, I have decided to stay here. Why?, that I will explain to you. I feel like Einstein in the MIT. He could have stayed there after the publication of the theory of relativity to develop his mental strength. There sprouted nothing earth-shaking out of his brain that was of any comparison importance, but he could have a life like a pussycat in behind a window at the south. Nothing needed to be done and everything was possible. That’s a bit how I feel these days. I pass my days reading in Braintec’s datasheets, and in between times I walk in the park, in the city center and further. Everything is well with my children and my “ex” wife if I believe the e-mail. So there are no worries for tomorrow.

Eventually it was Jessica Wright who persuaded me to stay. Three days ago I walked into her and she invited me to have something to eat together that night. At that moment I already suspected her goal, and I accepted her invitation. I accepted her wish right away. It was: Stay here for a while, because we need you. But anyway, we have had a nice meal in a good tandoori-restaurant where the food was very tasty, and very spicy. She looked at me severely and then she asked: "What is it you want, stay or go?" She started this way while we sat down at the table. I was caught completely, and didn’t know what to say. She looked so pretty, she had so many charms, but she didn’t use them. She asked it so directly. We had barely seated. "Psychologists are craftsmen", was the only thing I could think of as answer. "I understand my duties" she said, "and I want you to answer my question now". "Yes, I’ll stay for a couple of weeks more", I answered. This was the shortest therapeutic consultation I have ever had in my whole life.

The rest of the evening was very nice and cozy. After dinner we headed to town and went on a real pub-crawl. We have seen the smallest pubs. After two o’clock at night everything that looked like a pub was closed. That was no hindrance for Jessica. She brought me to a pub that wasn’t even a bar, but the living room of a woman named Elisa. Some kind of illegal pub. She received only people she accepted. I was allowed as a friend of Jessica. Elisa, the owner of the "pub" introduced me to some other visitors. John, a philosopher with long grey hair, and a corduroy suit. Jack, type car thief, dressed in jeans and leather jacket. It was almost a movie. And an Indonesian man, a guitar player. Everything his ears could hear, he played on his guitar, a Fender Stratocaster. His name was Selmer. Like the brand for guitar amplifier from the fifties. Between the conversations he plucked quietly at his guitar. From Jimi Hendrix to Wishbone Ash and from Jazz to Funk. Later that night a huge fat lady came in as well. I can’t remember her name. She was the owner of a bookstore three streets further down the roaf. She was dressed in black, even several sizes too big for her posture, and she had a voice like a baritone and a smile like an avalanche.

We spoke the whole night. It were all strong stories and adventures. It was very cozy and intimate. I became drunk that night and Jessica as well, I think. At five a.m. we took a taxi to the research center. When we jumped out, Jessica said: "I hope you will stay for a long time, because you can feel at home anywhere. See you later, I want to speak to you right before your extraction at eleven o’clock. Go for a sleep now". I slept until the alarm called me merciless back to reality at half past nine. The only thing that could get me back on my feet was the thought: "Duties are duties!"