Title: Optional

Text: In his need, the child goes to his father's comrades, plucking at one man's cloak, another's tunic. Some pity him and then hold out a cup, letting him for a moment wet his lips, without moistening his palate. Another man whose parents are still living pushes him out of the feast, hitting him with his fist, insulting him: "Go away, just as you are. You've no father at our feast." So, in tears, the child returns to his widowed mother. That child is our son Astyanax. Jeder Absatz wird ein Test sein.

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