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“In the Year of Our Lord 1512 on the first day of May, a living
beast which they call the rhinoceros was brought from India to
Manuel, Great King of Portugal, in Lisbon. Its colouration is
like the shell of the turtle and it is covered wholly in thick
scales. Before upon its nose is a stout horn which the creature,
finding itself in the vicinity of rocks, sharpens on every
occasion. The beast is the mortal enemy of the elephant which
greatly fears it for, upon an encounter, it will thrust its head
between the front legs of the elephant and, ripping open its
belly, despatch it, against which the latter has no defence.
They say also that the rhinoceros is a swift, joyous and agile
beast.” – Albrecht Dürer
WHEN YOU ARE AMONG WELL-OFF, not anti-social,
people, you often find yourself talking to a kid and you
think (without any sarcasm), what a neat little rabbit he is,
– just so fine and decent, so sorted and ready to turn out
right, into a good man, without being a doormat – someone
capable of working well and girls are going to think (or at
least, should think): “a perfect husband, I’ll take him and
live happily ever after” and then, less than an hour later,
you come across someone else and now you feel you are the
bunny rabbit, the puppy, the greenhorn, but you don’t
mind; quite the opposite: what I like is this pendulum
swing, this alternation of people, moods and images, as
restless as the sea, as if you are in your element walking on
water, preferably choppy.
I was brimming with joy, all the more brilliant for having
no cause, as I marched down the street wanting to jump