ARCESILAUS

...fuyard que je connais aux traces de tes larmes.
MARIE-JEANNE DURUY

he left and I see him going off along the deserted street every so often he turns and motions to us with a slight movement of his eyelids till — little by little — his wake vanishes fades far into the horizon

he writes

in his letter he says — among other things — that he likes the rain

"I'm Greek — those are his words — my mother and fatherland is the rain"

"when I'm caught in the rain — he went on — when I'm caught stark naked roaming the streets I'm clothed — by the rain — in garments of incredible resplendence and variety and as I proceed it fashions a decor and scenery of mythical wealth"

now he returns to the "termina" amid the bustle and music and joy of the masses and he mixes — becomes one — with the crowd

and he feels at times like a king among his subjects at others — perhaps precisely the same moment — like an exiled ruler among foreign — and unknown — peoples