The last time Tlön had vanished was so long ago that precious little knowledge of him had survived. No-one alive had heard of him. Most of the historical records had been obliterated, as too many things had happened in the meanwhile. Even his name was in question. A rare name, too. And yet, many people thought he was vaguely familiar to them. There was something about him that suggested he had never left, either. That was comforting at first, but in time it became almost offensive. Who was he to come and go like that? What right did he have to ever return after journeys that took so long that whole generations had passed away? Tlön did not have any answers to such questions, and appeared not to be bothered by them. There were not his questions, or so it seemed. This only added insult to injury, but it also made him sort of invulnerable. He was so far apart from everyone else that no-one could touch him. More, no-one could even imagine touching him. By and by, nearly everyone around him started hoping he would eventually vanish once again, perhaps for good. Only Tlön knew he would always come back, no matter what, but he kept quiet about it. That bit of certainty would be too much for everyone else to bear.