Your boy, your intellectual and complex fellow, he, well, how to put this... He journeys out at night, disguised, like Nero, as a Plebeian and well... He joins their rude celebrations, drinks their blunt drinks and indulges in their vulgar narcotics... He is greeted like a friend and shakes their hands, embraces and is embraced... And all the time he, well all the time, your fellow, he enjoys himself, he
enjoys their baseness and the animal savagery of their behaviour.
Once home he reads Elliot and remembers Tolstoi.
| Of restless nights in one-night cheap hotels | |
| And sawdust restaurants with oyster-shells: | |
| Streets that follow like a tedious argument |
