Leno's men are hard at work sawing timber under the direction of their foreman, many of them standing up to their waists in - alright, here we go again. He is just sitting there, just came in, he doesn't say a word. But I know his thoughts, I know that he's not interested but nevertheless feels he has to know what I am reading, they all want to know, it happens everytime, and at the moment he is preparing the first subtle assault because I am not reacting, I keep my eyes on the text although it has lost all of its meaning the very moment he sat down, could be chinese really, but I pretend to read although it is impossible. There now, he is slowly leaning over to me, deliberately crossing the border to attract my attention but I won't capitulate, Leno's men are hard at work, Leno's men are hard at work, Leno's men are hard at work, his eyes are focussing on the text now, I am not looking at him but I know, I can see the two spotlights scanning the pages, chasing words and phrases devoid of real meaning because in his mind he is already planning the final attack, and there it is, you are hedged in, throw away your guns, hands up - no, he's not saying that, I'm getting weird now, he's just asking the inevitable question which has been circling above my head like an air scout for so long, the end is near now and I close the book to show him the cover, awaiting his final remark which as I knew from the start could only be (a) or (b), (a) being accompanied by shrugging shoulders and a polite inquiry after the quality of the text, (b) showing signs of recognition while providing detailed information about his experiences with my book. It being (a) this time I try to think of an answer that could be of any use for him and would do justice to the text, but finding none as always because there is none I finally give him what he wants, nodding my head and it's over and Leno's men are still hard at work sawing timber.