The hermit had taken up his quarters in the wooded region, so well hidden that what they call a stroke of luck was necessary in order to find him. But I say that this stroke of luck is none other than identification, you can only find the hermit by suffering his solitude, the movement is unique, produced by a single mechanism. And that is the illusion.

   Miaille listened to these simple words and accepted another drink that the other man poured for him.
   The number two, the most imperfect of all.
   And the notion of a homeland is dwindling, any sort of identification has become impossible.
   Unless the hermit himself cultivates it, warped by his sorrow, and welcomes the exile as his double, everything would have to start anew, go from division to division, and culminate in the mortal number, one plus one equals nothingness.

- Robert Pinget (Fable, 1971).

Picture: 1911 set design by Leon Bakst for Mansion (act) Four 'The Wounded Laurel' from 'Le Martyre de saint Sébastien' by Claude Debussy and Gabriele d'Annunzio.