4x-xx-xx ep30 The Strange Judgment

Out of the past, Vantoms of a world gone by, Speak again the immortal tale. The strange judgment. Someone is on the trail below. Now they are coming closer, Pointing at my cave, Here so high above the sea, At the pile of moss which is my bed, And the granite slab my table, The stone-wear pitcher,

the loaf of dried bread. Soon they will turn. See now, just like the others, they are going back down the trail, like the village folk who go to the market place by another trail so as to avoid me. They will tell others about me, about the fearful old man in the cave above

the sea with his little wooden cross, ascetic old man with bloodshot eyes. They do not know the real reason I am here, that once many years ago, before I took a vow to do penance in this prison in the open air, I lived down there on the little islet near the salt marshes

at Gerand, lived with my wife, Bruin, and fished. Now only my niece, Perot, comes to me every morning, bringing me bread and talks to me. But I cannot answer. I can talk to no one.

Dare only to kiss her forehead. But then, so long ago, I had many friends. Shaggy hands do not show it, but I was strong then and the muscles of my body were hard. I could fish with the best of them.

Yeah, Combrame has the arrows on us. He left no sardines for us others. Can I help but that I know where fish is playing? Yeah, look at your name. So? Combrame. Meaning the sea bends to your will.