The urgency of the clouds hurrying down from the north was captivating even to those who did not know why. “It’s because they come from the north,” Alessandro said to the Guitarist. “They’ve flown over Vienna, rushed along the Danube, and floated above military camps and the Ministry of War. Now they’ve come to look at us. They want no part of any of this, and they speed toward the Adriatic. They’ll cross the sea and float untouched into Africa like lost balloons. They hear nothing. They float over silent deserts and struggling armies as if the two were indistinguishable. I wish that I could
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