Kristian MichailI’m in a condo complex in Miami.
My neighbours are an older American couple and a middle-aged Russian man. They’ve joined forces to organise a party for the whole building. All in the spirit of community. I acknowledge them for their efforts. However, both want the credit for making the special day happen. Especially, the yank who has a lousy fashion sense and an annoying voice. This dork needs to branch out of America. His work is undone by his lame plea for praise. The Russian man growls like a bear in frustration. Both of them are ridiculous. The Russian gives me the keys to his apartment. He is always out of town on business. What business? God only knows. He says if I ever need to use his pad he trusts me with his life. He has communist memorabilia in a glass cabinet from all around the world. Vietnam. Cuba. The Motherland. He looks at me dead in the eyes. He says just make sure I do not break his prized possessions. Or there will be deadly consequences. I appreciate his loaded gesture of hospitality. I love the drama of it all. I wonder what it’s like to be a man of no nation. A citizen of the world who is free to enjoy the ridiculousness of every race. A noble racist that appreciates everyone’s retardation equally. End of dream.