I am at the airport in Menorca. People are standing quietly, waiting for their luggage, which does not arrive. I walk out of a room. A woman dressed entirely in white comes toward me. I bend forward and, with the waistband of my trousers, pull the door shut. It is so funny that we both start laughing. I do not have any keys, but my brother opens the door for us. I bend forward again and the door closes once more. We laugh again. My brother tells me I should buy a BMW motorcycle. I walk through the airport but cannot find a BMW dealer. Later I am riding a motorcycle back, turn off the engine, and roll too far. I park the motorcycle and go back into the room. There I meet a gallerist. I ask him where I can find a BMW dealer, but then I look it up on Google myself. Everyone else leaves the room. I select a series of images and have to register them on a computer before I can purchase them from the gallerist. Afterwards, I want to negotiate the price. At the top of the letter I write that my parents would have done the same, then I delete the line again but ask for a ten percent discount. I am tired, but I think I should not stay in the room. I should use the time to explore the island.

I am at the dentist’s office. Everyone is exhausted and tired. It is taking too long, and the assistant stops. I tell the dentist to give me the tray with the molding material for the dental impression. I put it into my mouth. It does not fit, so I have to turn it. Then I bite down so hard that my teeth press through the material and touch the metal of the tray. The molding material spreads over my palate. I hope the impression will still be good. I briefly nod off and fear that I might lose consciousness, but I remain conscious.