There is a bunch of old ladies I often see at the Kolding Caffe. In their mid- to late eighties, they still enjoy their cup of coffee, a croissant with marmalade or chocolate, and an occasional cigarette. But it is amazing to watch them move about. Their backs crooked, they take their time with every step. Short and hard of seeing, they are most careful not to bump into something. I just watched one of the ladies shuffling into the café. Three of them were already sitting at a table not far from mine. The one on the way in gazed every which way to find her friends, who were only two tables away. Two of the three ladies at the table faced her, but they could not see her, either. It took them a couple of minutes to meet and exchange happy greetings. Sitting at my table, I felt an urge to help them in some way. I was not sure what to do, though. Should I point or shout? Or should I get up and take the lady coming in by the hand. Thus I was relieved when the contact was finally made. Phew!