he looked out the window,
chin on the ledge,
arms spread out, fingers interlocked, beneath.
his expression was advanced:
it pondered.
he looked out the window
at a girl with a book,
under a tree,
admiring a boy in the mud.
he squinted to see
what he could already.
there must be something missing
he sat underneath an adjacent tree,
book open and eyes to the page;
she never once looked over
except to say, "That's my favorite book."
i, i, i
- steven
- "Seeing that before long I must confront humanity with the most difficult demand ever made of it, it seems indispensable to me to say who I am. Really, one should know it, for I have not left myself "without testimony." But the disproportion between the greatness of my task and the smallness of my contemporaries has found expression in the fact that one has neither heard nor even seen me. I live on my own credit; is it perhaps a mere prejudice that I live? ... I need only to speak with one of the "educated" who come to the Upper Engadine for the summer, and I am convinced that I do not live ... Under these circumstances I have a duty against which my habits, even more the pride of my instincts, revolt at bottom, namely, to say: Hear me! For I am such and such a person. Above all, do not mistake me for someone else!" - Nietzsche, Ecce Homo
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