#*lokasi

Akibat riset yang kukerjakan, pikiranku diberondong dengan bencana sampah, bahaya krisis air, ancaman kepunahan umat manusia karena nuklir, dan hal-hal seram lain yang membuatku yakin dunia akan segera berakhir. Seorang ilmuwan meneliti kandungan air dalam sistem pembuangan limbah di London, dan menemukan konsentrasi amphetamine, methamphetamine, kokain, dan ekstasi yang sangat tinggi di Sungai Thames. Air seni dan tahi begitu jujur. Saluran pembuangan bagiku bagaikan buku harian yang menceritakan bagaimana manusia modern gemar mengunyah obat-obatan seperti kacang asin. Dunia menuju kehancuran dan manusia semakin sulit berbahagia.

Garis Pantai Gaza tidaklah bersih. Segalanya terserak tak beraturan. Bentangan pasir dikotori sampah. Tenda-tenda yang membercaki pantai tak ubahnya tumpukan jerami, adalah tempat jiwa-jiwa pemimpi berlindung, berbincang dengan khayalan terintim mereka. Begitulah keadaan Gaza sekarang: gadis yang belum mempelajari seni keanggunan. Seorang gadis yang belum menciptakan wewangiannya sendiri, dan masih—mau tak mau—tercemari wewangian di sekitarnya.

Hillalum thought of the story told to him in childhood, the tale following that of the Deluge. It told of how men had once again populated all the corners of the earth, inhabiting more lands than they ever had before. How men had sailed to the edges of the world, and seen the ocean falling away into the mist to join the black waters of the Abyss far below. How men had thus realized the extent of the earth, and felt it to be small, and desired to see what lay beyond its borders, all the rest of Yahweh's Creation. How they looked skyward, and wondered about Yahweh's dwelling place, above the reservoirs that contained the waters of heaven. And how, many centuries ago, there began the construction of the tower, a pillar to heaven, a stair that men might ascend to see the works of Yahweh, and that Yahweh might descend to see the works of men. It had always seemed inspiring to Hillalum, a tale of thousands of men toiling ceaselessly, but with joy, for they worked to know Yahweh better. He had been excited when the Babylonians came to Elam looking for miners. Yet now that he stood at the base of the tower, his senses rebelled, insisting that nothing should stand so high. He didn't feel as if he were on the earth when he looked up along the tower. Should he climb such a thing?

Were the tower to be laid down across the plain of Shinar, it would be two days' journey to walk from one end to the other. While the tower stands, it takes a full month and a half to climb from its base to its summit, if a man walks unburdened. But few men claim the tower with empty hands; the pace of most men is slowed by the cart of bricks that they pull behind them. Four months pass between the day a brick is loaded onto a cart, and the day it is taken off to form a part of the tower.

Holland is a dream, monsieur, a dream of gold and smoke—more gilded by night. And night and day that dream is peopled with the Lohengrins like these, dreamily riding their black bicycles with high handle-bars, funeral swans constantly drifting throughout the whole land, around the seas, along the canals. Their heads in their copper-colored clouds, they dream; they cycle in circles; they pray, somnabulists in the fog’s giolded incense; they have ceased to be here. 

Soon the city fades before your eyes ... All the rest of the city is invisible. Millions of eyes look up at windows, bridges, capers, and they might be scanning a blank page. Many are the cities like Phyllis, which elude the gaze of all, except the man who catches them by surprise.

Over this chair still stands another veteran piece of furniture, a floor lamp that must have come with it. It rises from its round metal base on the floor to half a foot higher than a tall man sitting. Then it curves over his head one of the most ludicrous things a man has ever sat under, a sort of Chinesey-looking silk lamp shade with a fringe about it, so that it suggests a weeping willow. Which is presumably weeping for the occupant of the chair.

Sewaktu gelombang-gelombang kenangan ini mengalir masuk, kota itu menghisapnya laksana spons yang mengembang. Penggambaran Zaira seperti adanya saat ini juga memuat seluruh masa lalu Zaira. Kota tersebut, bagaimana pun juga, sama sekali tidak mengungkapkan masa lalunya, tetapi memuatnya seperti garis-garis tangan, tertulis pada sudut-sudut jalanan, jeruji jendela, pegangan-pegangan tangga, antena batang-batang lampu, galah-galah bendera, ruas-ruas yang ditandai guratan-guratan, lekukan-lekukan, dan gulungan-gulungan