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is mind by an ●act of will every time the thought of his de●stination came upon him.When he reached ▓the sea he turned at last down the shini▓ng Corniche in the sunlight to watch the smooth ▓sea and cloudl
ess air for a moment, the car alm▓ost at a standstill.Then suddenly he ch▓anged gear and began to travel alo▓ng the sea-shore at a more resolute pace●.He was going home.Soon he turned inland, le▓aving
the town with its palms crackling in t●he spring wind and turning to●wards the barren network of faults and dried-●out lake-beds where the metal●led road gave place to the brown ear●th tracks along emban
kments lined wit●h black swamps and fringed by ba●rbed reeds and a cross-hatching of swee●tcorn plantations.The dust came up be▓tween his wheels and filled the air of the ●saloon, coating everything in
a fine-grained ▓pollen.The windscreen became gradually snow▓ed-up and he switched on the wiper●s to keep it clear.Following little win▓ding lanes which he knew by heart he came▓, after more than an hour,
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to the edg●e of a spit flanked by bluer wat●er and left the car in the shadow of a tumbl●edown house, the remains perha●ps of some ancient customs-shed built in ▓the days when river traffic p●lied b