Zeitenspiegel Reportagen

Shortly before four o’clock: It is oddly silent in this room full of people. Their stir their coffee, creating a collective hum of spoons against china as if some gigantic insect were rising into the air.

The overheated ballroom at the Mittelhof is supposed to be jumping by four. But the guests still sit isolated at wooden tables, not looking at each other. Then an old VW Polo pulls up. Two men haul a series of crates into the belle-epoque mansion, set up, tune up. Moments later, Fender guitars howl their first chords through the air and the dance floor instantly fills. The couples wear velvet ballerina flats or beat-up sneakers. There is a smell of freshly ironed laundry, lavender, cologne, mothballs, moisturizer.

Heinz, 75, gazes into the eyes of his beloved Brigitte. His right hand on her hip, his left handed joined to her right, he leads her past the olive-green walls. “So glad I have you,” he says, a bit too loudly. “My chubby darling.” Their noses are almost touching.

Next to the window, a woman in a turquoise pants suit sobs as she sings along to a song about a woman abandoned by the man she loves. Next to her, a man in a wheelchair fidgets restlessly. “I want to get up,” he says, his face red. Male nurses hurry over as he leans on the armrests, pulls his body up, and straightens his knees. Not your usual mixer: Here people talk even though they had given up on talking, and stand even though the rest of their time is spent sitting or lying in bed. The surroundings and the familiar music provide cues to move and smile …