He had many ideas but even more distractions and it was impossible to find enough peaceful time to pursue his ambition. The pale city of Montevideo bathed itself in starlight and music. His friends called for him at any hour, ringing his doorbell or climbing up to his balcony unannounced, and they did not allow him to feign absence. His mood changed when he saw them at the window — all thoughts of work vanished and he became a celebrant almost against his will. This situation had to be rectified for the sake of literature. He was often weak, sometimes stubborn, and it seemed right to set these different qualities against each other: the stubbornness would prevail. Accordingly he resolved to compose at least one book before attending another party. It was necessary to hide from society behind an impenetrable barrier. His friends disapproved but accepted it was a temporary measure and finally agreed to help. They treated his scheme as a game. From many nations they had come, seeking the bohemian ambience and rhythms of this newly fashionable old port, the dancehalls, nightclubs and art galleries.
