Call me Gottlob. And just to make sure we don’t get off on the wrong foot, my name is indeed Gottlob. But what is the actual meaning of names? I know, I know, that’s a tough one. I wonder about it, too. I wonder, as I sit on the deck looking at the brightest star in the sky during the day – Phosphorus. The drops of sweat trickling down my face are as salty as the sea. Have I been out in open waters for too long? I remain so lost in thoughts about the meaning of proper names that I get startled when a young man from the crew exclaims by my side.

“Ah, what a night! Look at Hesperus, sir! Isn’t she a beauty!”

I’m tempted to engage him in a debate about the name of that star – is it Hesperus, Phosphorus, or the same old Venus? Tempted as I am, giving in to such an itch would be a waste of energy. Not that I want to underestimate the lad, of course. In any case, the ship docks, and I must interrupt my musings.

“Captain, where are we?” I inquire.

“The town is called Ulpia. We’ll spend the night here. Tomorrow we set sail around noon, so you’ll have time to take a stroll and explore,” the captain replies.

Despite the late hour, we find accommodation in a guesthouse in the center of the town. The hostess is friendly and treats us to some local delicacies. While we’re enjoying the warm meal, she tells us stories and myths about the town.

“Around here, instead of numbers, houses have names,” she begins.

Ah, talk to me about names, I think to myself while savoring the stew.

“Word on the street is that the man who proclaimed himself as what you may consider the first mayor of Ulpia had a peculiar attitude towards numbers,” the lady of the house continues. “He didn’t believe in their sequence, so he prohibited house numbers from following that suspicious logic. Every person’s effort to convince him that one plus one is always equal to two was in vain. Not always, he would reply. Sometimes, when a man gets together with a woman, things may be equal to three, or even four should they end up having twins. If we draw one straight line with a black marker on white paper and then another one parallel to it, how many straight lines do we have? You’d be mistaken if you said two. What about the negative white space between them? Is it not another, third straight line? Such were his arguments. And so, the buildings around here have had names since, well, pretty much forever.”

I almost choke on my morsel. Thankfully, I have it soaked in stew, so I somehow swallow it without causing a scene. What kind of logic is that? I wish I could express my objections on the matter, but that morsel is still sliding down my throat. I’m speechless.

“That’s why, usually, instead of saying, ‘I’m going to visit whoever they’re visiting,’ people around here would say, ‘I’m going to the …

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