I was once on Christmas Eve in Fuerteventura in the parking lot of an all-inclusive hotel talking to Klaus, an old German fellow who lived there. We wished everyone a Merry Christmas, drank beer together and laughed sarcastically with him about the fact that he was just him, Klaus, whom most of the hotel guests didn’t know, unlike Santa Claus, whom most knew and believed in.
The next day at the beach, I wondered how another old man with nothing on could speak so confidently to a beautiful woman three decades younger, wearing nothing but a thong, and why she so clearly respected him.
The next year there was no Klaus, but just many naked old men.
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