Who was the wicked man who, like the Roman, wanted not to possess wealth but to rule those who possess it? Grand stories are revealed from the opening of a hidden cave where the aroma of some intoxicant empties into the fresh, uncut air. A woman; it is always a woman, presses ointment between her breasts and prepares to meet the man she loathes. He tells her his secrets. She is remembering what he said last time and whether it did, in the end, make a difference.

The wicked man, unerring in his precision, describes to her a place in the city where she will find friends. And find the man who thinks he is perfect. Bring me this man and you will be free.

The wicked man would stand on the ledge of the mountain and watch the people move single file through the valley, counting each one and remembering them; their habitats and dreams.