Longer Sparrow Grass …

"Human being, human being, I need your knowledge, I need your knowledge."

'Llama?"

The animal is still in the elevator shaft in self-isolation and still annoying as ever.

"Asparagus! Asparagus!"

"What are you doing, animal? Are you trying to cast a spell, again? Do you still think that this postal owl withheld your Hogwarts letter all these years since your eleventh birthday?"

"Don't be silly, dude! I am talking about the garden asparagus, this very valuable seasonal vegetable."

OK, I think. I am not a fan of asparagus and I do not know why the animal should be thinking about it. It never proved to be a big fan, either.

"It is about this discussion I've been having with our favourite barkeeper, Speedy, the other day."

"Discussions with Speedy?" I ask. "In times of self-isolation and Corona?"

"You remember? Secret tunnel between elevator shaft and bar kitchen? And we keep the distance, if you really want to know. Sometime we are not even in hearing distance. And maybe he thinks I am just a voice in his head or some kind of ghost in the walls."

"This does not sound good", I say. "Maybe I should give Speedy a call and talk to him about this."

"Do whatever you think you have to, dude. But I have a question and Speedy does not know it either. Are white asparagus and green asparagus parts of the same plant? Are white asparagus spears the roots of this plant and green ones the parts above the ground? Or are white ones the young ones and green ones the older ones once they broke through the ground into bright daylight?"

"I have to admit", I say, "I do not know it and I have never thought about it."

"Daylight."

"All I can say", I say, "is that asparagus and the whole asparagus season seem to be very important to the people in that Klingon country in Central Europe."

"Daylight!" The animal's voice is full of longing. "I haven't seen the light of day for quite some time now, dude!"

"Daylight?" I am a little bit confused. "Aren't we talking about asparagus any longer?"

"No, I don't think so, dude!" The animal has changed the subject again. "Klingons, you say? Do you know what the name of the Klingon home planet is, dude?"

"I don't know", I say. "Klingon Prime, maybe?"

"You and your knowledge are not reliable, dude", says the llama. "I will go and ask Speedy."

"And all that remains is holy silence", I say and return to my book on the roof terrace of my penthouse on top of the skyscraper on 666 Whitaker Lane in Bromford, the friendly town by the shore and seaside on this sunny Sunday afternoon.

Today is Sunday, the 26th of April 2020.