Nietzsche on his Balcony

I lived alone for so long. Back and forth, from the boarding house to the courthouse. Magistrate's hat there, floppy-brimmed hat here. Bareheaded at the boarding house. Sparse floppy hair with a hairless crown, almost beatific, like a monk's tonsure. I was alone and I saw clearly. Now I have to steal time. The people-bound together as into one body, with Basilicato caught in the crowd's eye-take it away from me. My appearances on the balcony take it out of me, for I am all too aware that deep down I have neither Saul's revolutionary halo nor Dante's oratorical fire. Brothers, I ask you, why did you leave me here to face the masses alone, alone in the Assembly, and tell me why, bound to the people, bound to the Assembly, do I feel so alone?

Every night, Elisa barely comforts me. Every day, solitude beckons. Solitude was my constant companion, but it's now subject to my neglect and the lack of time I have to give. It's as if solitude didn't know I love it more than anything, more than anyone, and that I await with eagerness-and anguish-the time when we're together, time stolen from everything else. I search for ways to translate the qualities of my intimacy to the huge crowds gathered to celebrate. They see me as the head of the revolution. I tell them I am just another citizen. Citizen Aaron Azar, Comrade Azar. I practice an ascetic ideal in public life! I speak of myself to the masses as though I were pure, knowing full well that's a lie!