I went to fetch something in one of the two wardrobes at my disposal in my beloved’s apartment, and I was surprised by an old man in the mirror on the inner side of the wardrobe’s door. I recognized him at once, and I nodded gently by way of greeting. “We are vis-à-vis,” I mumbled out loud. He just stared at me, and I nodded toward him one more time before closing the door. It was my father, it goes without saying (“Vis-à-vis,” December 2, 1998). But I am not sure whether he still remembers that our rooms are opposite each other. “Vis-à-vis?” I could almost read the question in his eyes. Anyhow, we will be bumping into each other ever more often, I am quite sure.