This afternoon I was reading on the hotel terrace when Horst Schneider joined me. Earlier this year he moved from Vicenza north of Venice to Motovun. As we were talking, two of his German friends who are staying with him at the moment walked up to our table. In their mid-forties, they look like a brother and sister. They would not join us, though. They had other plans, they explained demurely. First they would have a little something to eat, and then they would read together. Not sure of what they meant by reading together, I pressed them a bit. As it transpired, they often read to each other. A quiet couple, they were a bit alarmed by the enthusiasm with which I congratulated them, as well as inquired about this curious habit of theirs in some detail. They alternate as readers and listeners. They started reading together five years ago. They read both novels and other stuff. Seeing that they were a bit embarrassed by my many eager questions, I told them that I could hardly wait to follow their example. Reading together is the way to be, I dare say.