As I am sitting in the Kolding Caffe and sipping my drink, I cannot but hear bits and pieces of conversation of three fellows sitting right behind me. In their early twenties, they seem to be preparing for some university exam. “Thomas Mann,” says one. “No, no,” says another, “Karl Mannheim.” “Death in Venice,” laughs the third. “Ortega y Gasset,” tries one again. “Oh,” chimes in another, “I hate that one.” “Such a moron,” agrees the third. They soon forget about the exam and turn to their favorite movies. “Robert de Niro,” says one and they all laugh. “Leonardo DiCaprio,” jumps in another one. “He gets paid to kill someone,” laughs the third, “but then he pays someone else to do it.” Luckily, by then I manage to turn them off completely.