"Or think of a young man, maybe he took too many risks, coming here with a government official, a tax collector, or even a trader, to improve his life. Landing in a swamp, going through the woods, and in some remote place feeling completely surrounded by wilderness, the mysterious life of the jungle, the hearts of wild people. There's no easy way into this mystery. He has to live with the strange and hard. And it's also strangely exciting, it affects him. The excitement of the terrible – you know, imagine the growing regrets, the wish to escape, the giving up, the hate."
He paused.
"Look," he said again, raising one arm, his palm open, so that, with his legs crossed, he looked like a Buddha in normal clothes without a flower – "Look, none of us would feel exactly the same. What saves us is being efficient – focusing on efficiency. But these Romans weren't very good, really. Their rule was just about taking what they could, I think. They were invaders, and for that you only need force – nothing to be proud of, as your strength is just because others are weak. They took what they wanted. It was simply stealing and violence, mass murder, and people acting blindly – which is common for those who fight the darkness. Taking over land, which usually means taking it from people with a different skin color or slightly flatter noses than ours, isn't good when you think about it too much. What makes it acceptable is the idea behind it. An idea; not a false excuse, but an idea; and a clear belief in that idea – something you can respect, and serve, and make sacrifices for…"
He stopped talking. Flames danced on the river – small green flames, red flames, white flames – chasing, catching up with, and crossing each other, then slowly or quickly separating. City traffic continued through the night on the busy river. We watched, waiting patiently – there was nothing else to do until the flood ended. Only after a long silence, when he said, "I guess you all remember I was a riverboat sailor for a while," did we realize we were going to hear about one of Marlow's unfinished adventures.
"I don't want to bore you with my personal story," he began, showing a common mistake of story tellers who don't know what their audience wants to hear. "But to understand how it affected me, you need to know how I got there, what I saw, and how I went up that river to where I first met the poor man. It was the distant point you could reach by boat, and the most important part of my experience. It somehow seemed to shed light on everything around me – and on my thoughts. It was quite dark and sad, not unusual in any way – not very clear either. No, not very clear. And yet it seemed to shed light.