do you believe in armchairs in rugs in furnishings? in nice beds for one or two people? do you still believe in armchairs? do you still believe in Campari in Ramazzotti in Cora and in that strange jester story about fragrant beer? do you still believe in Campari? I no longer believe in Roman-style lamb in Livorno-style fish stew or in that other fake and ugly subject of suckling pig on a spit I no longer believe in Roman-style lamb
gnocchi? Chianti and Barbera? cherries and apricots? not one of these is real! tales for fools Chianti, Barbera gnocchi! women?! do you really still believe skirts exist?! only Kikuyu exist. early in the morning befuddled or sleepless you’re still dreaming about women!
[Captivity will have been, paradoxical as it may seem to you now, a necessary part of your experience, as without darkness there can be no light.” Thus, it seemed, spoke the wind of the mountain, seeking me out in my prison cell.
And the Wind seemed to add: “The dream you dream shall live in your memory, a delight that never will stale; it will be your inspiration in the bitter years to come. But be careful! For what you have gained you have paid in full measure, but it is meant for you only. Keep my precious secrets to yourselves and reveal nothing to anybody.” * I, obstinate as I am, have written a book about it. July 10, 1946, P.O.W. Camp 366 – GILGIL (Kenya)]
