It is almost impossible to tell how much of this book is fact and how much fiction. Often one is tempted to go away and look things up, just to check, but this isn't necessary, and it would, so to speak, be a case of hurrying to re-arrange one's own walled garden, rather than savouring the moment. And there is much to savour, as well as much that is serious. And so he goes home. And now, I too must go away and read Dante again, for the insights and inspiration that Dessaix clearly finds there.
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