Handcuffed politely to the bedpost of his inspiration, he is optimistic that this time the limits of self-imposed constraint will be breached, if not brutalised entirely. ~ ‘Don Quixote’ - a whimper of metaphor; ‘DoN QuiXoTE’ - a rush of chiming vowels; ’DON QUIXOTE’ - a panic of ecstatic prosody. ~ Ignoring his aching wrists and with imagination unfettered, he reaches for paper and pen, and begins.
‘Somewhere in La Mancha, in a place whose name I do not care to remember, a gentleman lived not long ago, one of those who has a lance and ancient shield on a shelf and keeps a skinny nag and a greyhound for racing.’ - Miguel de Cervantes, Don Quixote