Zethes-Zethes is the city of identical twins. At every street corner you recognize the faces of those who are their doubles: the barber who looks like my barber, the cafe manager like my cafe manager, the police chief like my police chief, the librarian like my librari-an. From the windows it is hard to tell whether the people you see every day aren’t all exactly like you; and in fact they are your doubles: the barmaid who looks like my barmaid, the grocer like my grocer, the chambermaid like my chambermaid, the lamplighter like my lamplighter. At times, to distinguish the pairs, you give a tip to the cafe manager and don’t give one to mine; you flirt with the barmaid and don’t flirt with mine; you water the plants and don’t call the chambermaid to dust; you extinguish the lights and don’t report the lamplighter for neglecting them. But then someone else’s tip replaces yours, another man’s flirting replaces yours, a watering of somebody else’s plants replaces yours, somebody else lights other lamps and reports other negligent lamplighters. Since life is like this, it seems useless to trouble remembering who is who; everyone is everyone; everyone is everyone: an oblivious life. When you die, one of your twins dies; but others remain, and their twins. When yours return, you take his place; and others take yours. Since life is like this, it seems useless to remember who is who; since death, who is which; since returns, who is which. An oblivious life - an oblivious death; an invisible change of places.

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