The men around me form strange surges; shouts cross each other or descend.

Upon the fantastic walls of nights the shots make flicks and flashes.

Earth and sky are crowded with apparitions; and the golden lace of burning stakes is unfolding.
A man is in front of me, a man whose head is wrapped in linen.
He is coming from the opposite direction.

He is coming from the other country! He was seeking me, and I was seeking him.

He is quite near--suddenly he is upon me.
The fear that he is killing me or escaping me--I do not know which--makes me throw out a desperate effort.