По эту сторону рая
The Egotist Considers
Hetwisteddownalong,sinuousblackness,wherethemoonlightwasshutawayexceptfortinyglintsandpatches...thensuddenlysankpantingintoacornerbyafence,exhausted.Thestepsaheadstopped,andhecouldhearthemshiftslightlywithacontinuousmotion,likewavesaroundadock.
Heputhisfaceinhishandsandcoveredeyesandearsaswellashecould.Duringallthistimeitneveroccurredtohimthathewasdeliriousordrunk.Hehadasenseofrealitysuchasmaterialthingscouldnevergivehim.Hisintellectualcontentseemedtosubmitpassivelytoit,anditfittedlikeagloveeverythingthathadeverprecededitinhislife.Itdidnotmuddlehim.Itwaslikeaproblemwhoseanswerheknewonpaper,yetwhosesolutionhewasunabletograsp.Hewasfarbeyondhorror.Hehadsunkthroughthethinsurfaceofthat,nowmovedinaregionwherethefeetandthefearofwhitewallswerereal,livingthings,thingshemustaccept.Onlyfarinsidehissoulalittlefireleapedandcriedthatsomethingwaspullinghimdown,tryingtogethiminsideadoorandslamitbehindhim.Afterthatdoorwasslammedtherewouldbeonlyfootfallsandwhitebuildingsinthemoonlight,andperhapshewouldbeoneofthefootfalls.
Duringthefiveortenminuteshewaitedintheshadowofthefence,therewassomehowthisfire...thatwasasnearashecouldnameitafterward.Herememberedcallingaloud:
"Iwantsomeonestupid.Oh,sendsomeonestupid!"Thistotheblackfenceoppositehim,inwhoseshadowsthefootstepsshuffled...shuffled.
