My hero was neither a lighthouse keeper, nor a guide to the underworld, nor a commander or conspirator or writer. But on occasion - and I mean: in a personal moment of his, anything from all of these would happen in his unruly mind, and at the same time, the devil would confuse things: as a lighthouse keeper, he would write messages of a neo-Kantian professor of philosophy from a Central European university of the past century, and as a guide to the underworld, he would take the ship of the barren line and go to feed the old lighthouse keeper every month - his "friend" they say, "heart attack!", "brotherly love!", and they say it there, at the lighthouse, at night (which nights? lighthouse keepers sleep at night, they don't talk!) or he would take up the profession of a truck driver with a big truck - two trailers behind! - and go to sea, of course, as a writer now, with pipes, from Germany, "special" ones he says for I don't know what sugar refinery pipes from beetles!