Nietzsche at the door

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.

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