Wanderer, who are you? I see you going on your way, without scorn, without love, with unfathomable eyes, damp and sad like a lead sinker which has come back unsatisfied from every depth into the light - what was it looking for down there? - with a breast which does not sigh, with a lip which hides its disgust, with a hand which now grasps only slowly: Who are you? What have you been doing? Have a rest here: this place is hospitable to everyone - relax! And whoever you happen to be, what would you like now? What do you need to recuperate? Just name it: what I have I'll offer you! "For relaxation? For recuperation? O you inquisitive man, what are you talking about! But give me, I beg . . ." What? What? Say it! - "One more mask! A second mask!" . . . .