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47 The Enigma of a Cul-de-sac after Giorgio de Chirico’s Ariadne I once guided those steps with thread and now the shadows come. They enter the arcades and rest diagonally under the grey facades. I look at the shade behind the pillar under the arch, as I did before, as if time were material. At this time of day the piazza is empty again. Two men walked past five seconds ago. They’re still walking past. When time is material everything matters. I was abandoned once but now I recline here on the sun-drenched pedestal, one hand on my temple. I’ve slept lives away in the shade. If I doze for long enough, will the thread that unravelled his maze, unravel mine in its ponderous marble sack? ...

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