At half past seven, the people in front of the Berliner Ensemble are still complaining about wet shoes, trousers and skirts, while one group only complains about the gyros in the theater canteen. It’s almost 8 p.m. and then the weather and pork don’t matter. Then Benjamin von Stuckrad-Barre reads from his new novel “Still awake?” for the first time. The book about which so much was written in advance and yet nobody really knew what it was supposed to be about.

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