Yevgeny Zamyatin — We [1005]

The wind was whirling, driving, carrying me like a slip of paper. Fragments of cast-iron sky flew and flew-they had another day, two days to hurtle through infinity. … The unifs of passersby brushed against me, but I walked alone. I saw it clearly: everyone was saved, but there was no salvation for me. I did not want salvation… — Yevgeny Zamyatin, We, 1005

Note

The closing cadence turns the city into a paper storm where the protagonist’s refusal of salvation becomes an absolute alienation.