ABSTRACT
The tourist's hotel room key was good-naturedly tossed back to him; the knife, it turned out, was a tourist souvenir knife that had been grabbed off one of the stands that vendors were already setting up; it was tossed back to the vendor by the departing assailants. Maybe nothing very spectacular, but it is like a piece of thinking that is really our own, something that engages the people powers and to which they really devote themselves; the people somehow manage to compose it so that it is right, coherent, consistent, closed in itself. One is left the next day emptied, one's good deed more a burden than a glory, the glory of it surely a burden, not left with strengthened powers but with harnessed powers, not knowing if new powers, the right powers, will be there when the time comes. One might well have to learn wickedness before one can do a good deed again.
