081413 #worm But he has to have an inkling that very same weekend, doesn't he? Some tiny, inner inkling; something in the degree to which he wasn't astonished, wasn't afraid, wasn't what? transported? He's walking in the weeds behind the old hotel. This is the town where a famous writer was born in obscurity. This town was the first settlement on the river that leads into Npydyuan. It's the perfect distance away from the city for a weekend retreat. It's fine; the ghosts aren't here. But where are the violins? He tells himself the violins are a pretty myth. You shouldn't be a slave to your fantasies.