The barber’s assistant asks if I am a Swede. An American? Not that either. A Russian? Well, then, what are you? I love to answer such nationalistically tinted questions with a steely silence, and to leave people who ask me about my patriotic feelings in the dark. Or I tell lies and say that I’m Danish. Some kinds of frankness are only hurtful and boring (Robert Walser, Jakob von Gunten)