Salman Rushdie's narrator begins: >I was born in the city of Bombay [...] On the stroke of midnight, as a matter of fact. Clock-hands joined palms in respectful greeting as I came.< At the time of day when I was born the clock-hands were imitating a plane flying at a fatal angle about to crash down - the right wing sticking out towards the sky, the left one ready to dig the ground. That day the sun was shining and it was snowing at the same time.

vor dem Haus: "Ey, man toll ey, gerade das Diplom geschafft und schon schwanger." Ich horche auf Ironie im Tonfall der Gratulantin. Keine da.