Chapter 49

How far have you come? Through what deserts have you passed? How much, like me, were you worn down in the whirlwind? How much, without sorrow, without regret, did you remain in the blue air? How much did you become thorn? And become scorned? Like me! You, how much were you in love? Hey!! Passing tourist! I’m talking to you! Gather your tents and the leftovers of your outing from my lap! Go! Spread your picnic cloth somewhere else. Here, at the edge of the sea: at the edge of the shore: is the place of love, pure, deep. The shore says face to face with me…