It seems to me to be beyond question that I am a king. I possess a kingly way of thinking, of contemplating and of imagining, that never ceases to amaze and delight me. I am unable to think of ignoble or ordinary things; everything must be given a name and take its place within a hierarchy, and stride or crawl, but in an emblematic way. I think of eagles, especially in the first light of dawn, in the silence between night and day, in the numbing cold, amidst the flowers' careless sorrow. I think of eagles, with their metallic wings and the piercing malevolence of their eyes.