Now I’ll get back to the rest of this book, whose main theme is an unfortunate woman. I’m actually writing about something quite serious, but I’m doing it in a roundabout way, including varieties of time and human experience, which even tragedy cannot escape from.
To put it bluntly: Life goes on.
Maybe Euripides woke up in the morning with a hangover when he was writing Iphigenia in Aulis. Perhaps funny, frustrating, totally-without-reason things happened to Euripides while Iphigenia journeyed on toward her sacrifice so the wind would come and take the Greek fleet to Troy where Ulysses picked it up from there and all the way to, years later, Ulysses returning to Ithaca and his friendly encounter with Penelope’s suitors.
I wonder if she ever did any weaving after that.