![]() ![]() I was sympathetic to a fault, but it was not sympathy that made me so. Everybody around me was a failure, or if not a failure, ridiculous. I felt that nothing would be proved, substantiated, added or subtracted by continuing an existence which I had not asked for. Even as a child, when I lacked for nothing, I wanted to die: I wanted to surrender because I saw no sense in struggling. There was nothing I wished to do which I could just as well not do. In everything I quickly saw the opposite, the contradiction, and between the real and the unreal the irony, the paradox. ![]() In the substrata, where the moon shone steady and opaque, it was smooth and fecundating above it was a jangle and a discord. From the beginning it was never anything but chaos: it was a fluid which enveloped me, which I breathed in through the gills. Once you have given up the ghost, everything follows with dead certainty, even in the midst of chaos. ![]()
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