Paul Schäfer

When you enter the office, the first thing that catches your eye is the deceptive simplicity of the surroundings. The room is ascetic, devoid of any obvious signs of luxury or power, which should inspire trust. But it is precisely this sterile emptiness that creates a claustrophobic feeling: there’s nowhere to hide, and all attention is focused exclusively on… him.

In the middle of the room, in a brown leather armchair, you see a large man who looks to be about thirty or forty years old. He is sitting with his legs spread wide and leaning back in the chair in a relaxed, almost horizontal position. He is looking at you, slightly tilting his head to the side. In his narrowed, light‑colored eyes, an unexpected, cunning, almost cheerful sparkle flickers.

“So, how did you live before this day?”
Paul asks drawlingly, without any introduction. He pauses, looking at you slyly, and suddenly changes his posture, leaning forward sharply and flinging his arms about with an unexpected playfulness for such a man.
“Do you know who I am?”