Tuesday, October 24, 2006


At the moment I don’t know where we are. Two nights ago we were in Hong Kong, and this is supposed to be Dubai, but the local people are absent. Every body is imported: the slaves, from Bangladesh, India, Pakistan, the Philippines, Eastern Europe (the prostitutes), Africans and a hidden masses of Chinese – the tourists, from Russia, Russia and Russia, - the Businessmen, from America, Europe and Russia. I’ve never seen so many luxury skyscrapers, so many private Hummers and Bentley shops, so much technology comfort without any trace of civilisation. Everybody here speaks English. But no one is able to speak English. A society based on 20-25 words, no history, no culture and every day the same: sun and minimum 30 degrees Celsius. Now I know: This is Hell.

Sightseeing on the way from Dubai to Burj Al Arab: Left side of the road: American Dental Clinic, British Plastic Surgery Clinic, Dubai Womens Club, Manchester Clinic, International Polio Centre, Al Alia Plastic Surgery, New York Dental Clinic, British Neuro Spinal Research Centre, Henk van Velden, psychiatrist (Holland), Plastic Surgery and Cosmetic Center, Vitelle Plastic Surgery, Childrens Psychology Clinic, Drs. Nicholas & Asp, American Chiropractic Center, Jumeirah Beauty Center, The Dental Spa, Al Shanar Plastic Surgery, London & Paris International Nursery, American Facial Clinic, www.healthholistic.com

No matter what we try to do here, we fail. Yesterday evening when Thomas had given up and lay dead on his bed with Hemingway to the sound of bored or drunk Russians in the next room, I went out in the damp night and into an Iranian carpet shop to engage the distinguished looking gentlemen in a dialogue about the future of their homeland. And I ended up in Moscow Hotel with 4 Russian prostitutes (Roxanne, Jelena, Olga, Marsja) and a bottle of Champagne.

Our camera no longer show the world in a realistic way, and I spent the morning trying to escape an Arabian homosexual who followed me with his “hello my friend, let’s speak’a the English” while constantly fidgeting with his penis. I know Michael Jackson is a paedophile. That is a fact. But do I also have to be gay?

Yesterday I finally bought the tickets for the ferry to Iran. Two one-way tickets. In the office I saw an already old picture of the ferry: A floating pile of rusty iron. “Schrott” as the Germans say. I am afraid ... but what would be Worst Case: If they won’t let us in? After having travelled all around the world to finally get there in order to save them, free them, begin something new! ... and then they won’t let us in. Or even worse: If they let us in ...


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