Behold the sensitive man! There he walks. One eye at the sky, the other into himself. What a sight! He appears like every man, granted, perhaps slightly thinner, perhaps darker around the eyes. But who notices these things? Just wait until he reacts to the world. There you’ll have it! Then you’ll see! Here he comes now, sauntering out of the bowels of the university. The only place suited to him, and yet he is disappointed, look at his face. Where is all the poetry, where is the beauty? He wonders. Oh, he expected to meet his two sweethearts, he needed them so and had been waiting for them, but alas! Poor fellow! Always disappointed! The university is a skeleton, he feels its coldness, and not even in its bones does one find a trace of blood! Here he is again, petting a stray cat, smiling at an elderly lady, handing a big coin to a beggar. Do you see him? Dressed well without proclivity to excess, groomed but not rigidly. Lo, he holds up a hand. What softness! Look around as you please, you will not find a gentler touch. Oh world, how unsuited you are to these hands you produced! You with your harsh strokes, what a dreadful mismatch, and the blame is on you! But hold on to the vision of our sensitive man, for a gust of wind has struck him. Behold the tears welling up in his eyes! Wet, watery, swimming in emotion – our man! It was only the wind! Imagine if he ever fell in love! Oh dear oh dear oh dear. May the heavens solidify and press a warm embrace on his heart! Cruel world! No, if our dear sensitive man were ever struck by love – and oh how he would be struck! struck! – he would not survive! Never! He would break, snap, wither, dissolve. Positively crumble! Look! His sight is still clouded. A little wind!