At an appointment in the hospital with the female ear specialist, I first had to pass the time in the waiting room. It was difficult to find the right department because both the information and the lift gave the wrong number. 252 turned out to be 253 at the end of a corridor to the left. My registration stickers were on the info desk. I waited in an open space occupied by two strangers, one of whom was a sweetly dressed old lady, she looked lovely with a scarf in dark blue, trimmed with an ornamental ribbon as you only find with Muslims. Her beautifully knotted headscarf fell to a point on her chest and sparkled with aubergine-coloured roses. Her entire outfit had changed from purple blue to dark blue, under which shiny ochre-coloured children's shoes peeped out. She looked lovely, that old lady, whom I greeted with my eyes and to whom she responded with a silent nod. Her daughter, companion, much more robust than the mother, Asian face, white round and full, something like a Mongolian, wore a pastel-coloured elegantly wrapped headscarf with a wrong side at the back and a white dress over a second one with black trousers underneath. Clearly Muslim women, perhaps Uyghurs? Why else the roses on her headscarf and the Mongolian appearance of her companion. She clearly answered my greeting loudly. How beautifully those strange women were tastefully dressed, not like our western banal cackling women. I had my fun with them.
The little old lady looked at me constantly, clearly at her discomfort, frowning her eyebrows like two commas to the middle above her nose, indicating impatience or uneasiness. I myself felt like talking to them, where did they come from, but controlled myself, took out my IPhone and read the news reports to fill the waiting time. Soon they were called and disappeared into the doctor's office, where I watched them disappear for good after my consultation.
