I read a legend that Kairos, the god of happy moments, has a braid on his forehead, which is the only way to catch him, but once he takes off on his winged feet, the back of his naked head, where there is nothing to hold on to, comes into view and is lost.
Was her meeting in East Berlin with Hans, a nineteen-year-old girl, and him, fifty-three, one of those happy moments that wouldn't last?
Katrina asked him as they sat in Café Tutti on the afternoon of the second day she met him: "Why did you live all those events before I came into your life like snow?" He replied: "It doesn't matter, you are now my new snow."
