The mask on the wall of Roger’s apartment wasn’t a mask at all but an alien head as he’d tell anyone who’d ask and many who didn’t. Every Sunday when we met for brunch at the Kaffeehaus Lala Orange, he’d bring the thing and put it in the centre of the table where it floated as if held by invisible strings and began to soothingly talk to every one of us. Not aloud which would have raised the suspicion of the waiters and other guests but silently in our own heads. This actually happened or if it didn’t it so realistically didn’t happen that it came as close to being real as the existence of this world comes to proving the Book of Genesis. But it all stopped one week when Roger stopped coming and therefore couldn’t bring the alien head and we had to get along without it, just like that.