That Nietzsche was a Martian

Nietzsche was a Martian: he lived in the desert. (His desert happened to be a pension up in Swiss Alps, yes; still it was a desert).

Yet, he persisted in writing books. Good ones, too. That he derived pleasure from writing them there seems to be no doubt: they are so pleasant to read (stylistically, if nothing else) that they must have been pleasant to write (and polish). But it is remarkable that he cared to write them. After all, there was no one around who would read them; and probably no one around whom Nietzsche could have hoped to read them. (Perhaps even no one he could have wanted to read them). Why write then and not -- work on one's put?

Matywiecki writes -- in his book on Tuwim -- that a poem is a cry for readers, for empathy. Is not all writing that way? Was Nietzsche -- the Ubermensch -- secretly crying to be understood?