An expatriate often sees the reality surrounding him as a sodden landscape. Just as the present becomes a mere trifle, a deviation in the route leading the past to the mysterious future, the space in which the foreigner exists is not a true physical space, but rather a mixture of the various worlds that inhabit his memory, brewed together inside his mind. He knows, however, that, no matter how suppliant his eyes may look as he repines for his homeland, wending his way through streets where the dulcet sound of foreign tongues is an anodyne for his overweening spleen, he will never slake the anxiety of a froward tyro who, from the depths of his mind, insists on adumbrating the yearned-for return to the homeland. And so, in order to survive outside the ingenious idylls of this fledgling imagination, the exile must abjure his inner, everlasting tyro, whose energy has not yet been sapped by the endless maundering through unknown streets and villages and the mental welter at the end of a day spent in a stygian boarding house in winter.
As the foreigner quaffs a pint of beer, recumbent at a godforsaken tavern, he knows he will rue the simpers he inveigled from natty girls throughout his journey, as he recounted with insouciance his disadventures abroad. The glib approach he took to his condition would often cause these girls to feel salacious, and occasionally he too found their physiognomies to be piquant. Nonetheless, their gossamer sensuality, achieved after hours of preening in front of a mirror, would soon become as sere as the barren landscape the foreigner saw outside the window. He suddenly quailed at their provocations: pluck vanished from his labile spirit. He realized he was incapable of cozening his soul, no matter how much he vaunted his own stoicism. The gamboling at bars and parties having toadies as his companions did not help him reach the pith of his problem. Instead, the din of endless toasts and bad music only caused him to become more distrait, unable to hear his conscience averring that his behavior was quite feckless.