Nietzsche came to my door the other night. He approached it from the inside, all but drenched in darkness. I asked him, I said, Hey, man. From whence have you come?
He walked slowly to the kitchen and the dim light there. I could see he was wet with sweat and his eyes were mad. Why, the mountain, of course, he said.
I watched as he poured himself a glass of water from the tap and drank it.
Please, I said. Will you show me the way?
He placed the glass in the sink and turned to me, his eyes shining. He said, But you already know the way.
Then I laughed, and he laughed.