Number four: The secret agent in exile

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Joseph Conrad: The Secret Agent - London Fictions

Our S.A. is on a lonely road, far away from his homeland, he is different but tries his best to look anonymous, ordinary, and normal. Only he and his recruits know his secret. Only pieces of writing, pieces of wisdom are reaching through his transmitter-receiver radio. 

This is what keeps him warm in the cold nights of his exile.

Pieces of inspiration that keep reminding him about who he is and to what he belongs. 

His most engraving experience is that he is here, a foreigner, an outsider, who looks at the manners and ways of going in this place, in this society, and he feels their great frustration; the pressure, the effort, the competition, the fate of the sensitive ones, the best of humanity which falls to the margins of what is happening.   

But with it, he knows that here, in his exile he is most effective, a representative of the other dimension within the one dimensional existence in this place. And the gap between his homeland and his exile – breaks his heart. The only consolations for him is the seeds of the other dimension that he keeps planting in those who long for the extra dimension. 

From all his recruits there are hardly one or two which come to share his destiny (to be a representative of different worlds), they are giving him support and trust when his longing for his homeland are uppermost.

But although this human support is dear to him – he is most content when he ménages to receive another piece of new thought, piece of contemplation, hot pieces of truth, a warm message from his true home.  This is for him like oxygen for the drowning diver, he takes one or two inhales deep into his lungs, and he can continue diving deeper and deeper to the uncharted areas of the collective subconscious. 

In that he is not different from writers, thinkers and artists – who were in exile from their homeland, and found comfort in their creativity, which only increased while they were in exile.

People in their homeland are balanced and with no urge to receive and transmit messages. Being an integral part of the inhabitants in their homeland – is a stopper for surges of creativity. 

But him, being a stranger, an outsider, not belonging – is what gives him  the impulse to pass messages from the place they consider as a true home, to this place where they feel in exile.

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