Out after the play, in the theatre slung with green glass beads, onto the black tossing water, so silent, so swaying: & the poor people asked us not to overpay the traghetto; & there were cactuses: & a man singing in the morning; [...] This is the magic we want: & magic there must be; so long as magic keeps its place. So on board our spacious orderly well found ship, now passing the coast of Italy.