NOTES
1 A personal aside: In September 2000 a group of natives and some Zürich visitors were invited to the house where Amalia Popper had lived, into the room where, most probably, Joyce the language teacher had nervously waited for her and conversed with her. It felt weird to sit in a room that may well not have changed essentially, among furniture that looked similar to what it would have been at the time, and to call up an atmosphere of décor, constraint, erotic tension and embarrassment. A lasting, somehow relevant impression, yet it all may well have been due much more to our imagination than any faded spirit of the place.
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