CONTINUOUS CITIES 2
If on arriving at Trade I had not read the city’s name written in big letters, I would have thought I was landing at the same airport from which I had taken off. The suburbs they drove me through were no different from the others, with the same little greenish and yellowish houses. Following the same signs we swung around the same flower-beds in the same square.

The downtown streets displayed goods, packages, signs that had not changed at all. This was the first time I had come to Trade, but I already knew the hotel where I happened to be lodged; I had
already heard and spoken my dialogues with the buyers and sellers of hardware; I had ended other days identically, looking through the same goblets at the same swaying navels. 

Why come to Trade I asked myself. And I already wanted to leave. 
“You can resume your flight whenever you like,” they said to me, “but you will arrive at another Trade, absolutely the same, detail by detail. The world is covered by a sole Trade which does not begin and does not end. Only the name of the airport changes.”
only of a face and an obverse, like a sheet of paper, with a figure on either side, which can neither be separated nor look at each other.