ABSTRACT
What does it mean to be human? A godly question as impossible to answer as not to pose, a monstrous creature too evasive to capture, too forbidden to leave alone. In the meantime the river runs, and by a commodius vicus of recirculation we are once more brought back to the swerve of shore and bend of bay, to that magic theater on whose stage the human actors H.C. Earwicker (alias Here Comes Everybody) and Anna Livia Plurabelle are found again, a chaosmos in which categories ride the surf, traces are erased, drops turn to clouds, clouds to drops.
