I live very well, have fire escapes and a well functioning heating system. On the bookshelves, on the stools and under the benches, the catalogues and art books have priority over the novels. Around the corner I can see the posh and elegant entrance areas and libraries of New York University.

On Easter Monday Dieta and I have a meeting with Walter and Justyn from the Ukrainian Institute in the very large castle of the institute on Fifth Avenue. Walter and Justyn explain that there are fourth generation Ukrainian New Yorkers. Dieta nods her head knowingly. From this I conclude that it is an accomplishment and an honor to be able to look back four generations in a county. According to them, the Ukrainians who came to New York during the 1920s lived on the Lower East Side.
The more mobile Ukrainians moved on, the less mobile ones stayed. Since the borough became popular and hip, they sell their worthless houses for a fortune. Ergo: mobility is overrated.
We are sitting across from each other at a dark table. A presentation and reception is being planned and we try to make an estimate of the attendance. “We’re bringing 70,” they say and fix their eyes on Dieta. “How many can you coerce into coming?”

After the reception good wine is served. I have asked the guests, how they want me to present the Ukraine and the US in Germany.