Studying them he decides to use stanzas. With his toe he traces the arabesques from the walls onto the bottom of the bath. Here, everyone is the same height, a head above water, their bodies gangly shadows below. To him similes seem more scrupulous. Aqueducts act like ideas, but not exactly.
Rain comes in through the oculus making a splashing circle the swimmers avoid.
Without the sun the hall is very dark, very cold. He considers not getting in, but his only alternative is to walk home in the wet. Another is picking a perfume. These are the men who will be wrapped in silk, escorted to their litters, carried away without their feet ever touching the streets. He shivers, jumps in, starts swimming.