I'm in Germany in an unknown industrial town. It is flat and generic with blocks of offices and car parks. I don't know where I am, but I'm trying to get to the town where my friend Sal lives. I try to call him on my phone, but I don't get through. I call him several times. It's getting late. I'm in some kind of public building - a depot or an airport. There are other people waiting there too. Perhaps there is a transport problem? The office block we are in is a little dilapidated - as if it's been empty for a while. There are whole floors (open plan) with just a couple of filing cabinets and a few pieces of paper strewn on the floor. The authorities have put mattresses down on the floor, so I assume this has become a makeshift hostel. A few other new arrivals file in. One of them puts a hand on my shoulder. "Hi Lawrence". It's my friend Tim. We catch up. It's been a while. Tim is glad to have company because he has an ailment he wants to verbally share. He tells me about a burn on his arms. He is feeling very unwell. I tell him he needs to go to get treatment. He starts to panic. There are no officials around. The night is spent on the mattresses on the floor. I hardly slept - bright lights - people talking. It's like trying to sleep all night on a ferry. The next morning I lose Tim. Perhaps he went off to find a doctor. I'm filing out of the building and up some 1930s steps. Perhaps the office block (which looks like it was put up in the 1970s) was built on the site of an older 1930s building. Suddenly my friend Sal appears. I'm amazed. He found out I was here, and came to pick me up.