Sartre came with a bottle of brandy. From the house of Pedro Domeq, I like to believe. I prepared and served grilled cured tapas--a product of my inquisitive mind and something that he won't find nauseating. By and by, Camus' Facel Vega parked rather dramatically on the road shoulder in front of my house. With him was rather an unusual companion--Sisyphus who is still burdened with a load of rock! So I stood up and produced two extra glasses for the new arrival. "Wow! What a company I have tonight," I said to myself. I wonder how will it be if Nietzsche and Prometheus join us.
The beauty of being human is that one can always reconsider, take time out, socialize, recreate, wait and see for things to manifest themselves. The quality of something is best tested by time. Wine for instance. But tapas, oh you have it consumed while it is still warm. Otherwise, Sartre will vomit it with the diluted ale. And oh, forget about the Facel Vega and try counting the times Sisyphus climbed the hill with his rock on his back.
Sleepless night indeed.
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