by this wall we isolated our machine-like, perfect world from the irrational, ugly world of trees, birds and beasts. …
The blunt snout of some unknown beast was to be seen dimly through the glass of the Wall; its yellow eyes kept repeating the same thought which remained incomprehensible to me. We looked into each other’s eyes for a long while. Eyes are shafts which lead from the superficial world into a world which is beneath the surface. A thought awoke in me: “what if that yellow-eyed one, sitting there on that absurd dirty heap of leaves, is happier than I, in his life which cannot be calculated in figures!” I waved my hand. The yellow eyes twinkled, moved back and disappeared in the foliage. What a pitiful being! How absurd the idea that he might be happier! Happier than I he may be, but I am an exception, am I not? I am sick.
I noticed that I was approaching the dark red walls of the Ancient House and I saw the grown-together lips of the old woman. I ran to her with all speed.
“Is she here?”
The grown-together lips opened slowly:
“Who is ‘she’?”
“Who? I-330 , of course. You remember we came together, she and I, in an aero the other day.”
“Oh, yes, yes, yes—yes.”
Ray-wrinkles around the lips, artful rays radiating from the eyes. They were making their way deeper and deeper into me.
“Well, she is here, all right. Came in a while ago.”