the end of the world

I’m staying at a hotel two blocks from the beach. The owner, a man with big, inked arms and the face of a tough guy, gives me wine, laughs roaringly, and lives in order to distribute fist bumps. “But” he asks me, “have you heard of Jehova’s Witnesses? My friends and I are Jehova’s Witnesses. You have them in Germany, too, right?”

Imminent Armageddon or not, I like the place. Also, I have developed a deep blister on my left heel, so I am going to stay here for two days.

There is a pool in the back yard, but I don’t go in. I also don’t swimming in the ocean, because I don’t want that blister to get infected.

So I put up the hammock somewhere in a park, and that’s where I spend my afternoon.

Quietly waiting for the end of the world.