Escape of the Invisible
We saw his shadow spread over the door which opened.
The man who left was a stranger to us; no one had seen him
coming in, nor where he sat, what he thought. He hadn’t
said a single word. We only knew him from our comfort.
He talked in a low tone with many pauses especially
(and as if indifferently) the word, “stone” or “string”
without looking toward the spot, he’d have sat, knowing
with sad certainty that he’d leave again, while that white
fluff, breathing on the black hat, would remain on the chair.
Manolis Aligizakis 