Stranger Monologue from To Damascus

From To Damascus by August Strindberg

any · contemplative · 50 sec

What a strange place! Everything seems conspire to arouse disquiet. What's that broom there? And the horn with ointment? Probably because it's their usual place, but it makes me think of witchcraft. Why is the smithy black and the mill white? Because one's sooty and the other covered with flour; yet when I saw the blacksmith by the light of his forge and the white miller's wife, it reminded me of an old poem. Look at those giant faces.... There's your werewolf from whom I saved you. There he is, in profile, see!

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