He walked out in the gray light and stood and he saw for a brief moment the absolute truth of the world. The cold relentless circling of the intestate earth. Darkness implacable. The blind dogs of the sun in their running. The crushing black vacuum of the universe. And somewhere two hunted animals trembling like ground-foxes in their cover. Borrowed time and borrowed world and borrowed eyes with which to sorrow it.
The truth about the world is that anything is possible. Had you not seen it all from birth and thereby bled it of its strangeness it would appear to you for what it is. A hat trick in a medicine show. A fevered dream. A trance bepopulate with chimeras having neither analogue nor precedent. An itinerant carnival. A migratory tentshow whose ultimate destination after many a pitch in many a mudded field is unspeakable and calamitous beyond reckoning.
The world is so beautiful and regretful, you and I are all lone travelers from afar, constantly walking, regardless of everything, crying, laughing, lingering in the world, just to make this trip worthwhile.
