“If on arriving at TRUDE I had not read the city’s name written in big letters, I would have thought I was landing at the same airport from which I had taken off. The suburbs they drove me through were no different from the other, with the same little garnish and yellowish houses. Following he same signs we swung around the same flower beds in the same squares. The downtown streets displayed goods, packages, signs that had no changed at all. This was the first time I had come to Trude, but I already know the hotel where I happened to be lodged; I had already heard and spoken my dialogues with the buyers and seller of hardware; I had ended the days identically, looking through the same goblets at the same swaying navels.

Why come to Trude? I asked myself. And I already wanted to leave.

“You can resume your flight whenever you like, “they said to me, “but you will arrive at another TRUDE, absolutely the same, detail by detail. The world is covered by the sole TRUDE, which does not begin, nor end. Only the name of the airport changes.”