marsyas the satyr plucks absentmindedly at the aulos abandoned by athena, always a litter of nymphs in his wake.

he understands those who are made mad by muses, like praxiteles and I. kind, gentle, yet nevertheless a satyr, he regales me with stories about the nymphs and their sorrows. and, being a satyr, he gives the opposite of prophecies: heeding his ill advice, I once ended up on a date with a gay man.