Pieces: Chapter I (June, Dov ' were you?)
[1] - Undated (June), notebook
are days of alternating mood and alternates luck, a bit 'as always. Six months without trials, and now I know that I work for a living, but I do not know if I live for something. Stopped the exercise of the mind, mortified the use of the body, what remains for me a human? In Paris, at least in a beautiful thriving garden.
For several days the spectacle of joy mellifluous eternal, unconditional, unchanging, the parody of a rosy world where everything is beautiful and the shock triumph and kisses, along with music unbearable, it makes me nervous. Have I a soul at the bottom from unredeemed Ebenezer Scrooge. Meanwhile, certain illusions that I had continued, despite everything, to cultivate, they are tired sag on their own. pitturiam the Roses. The waiver sad, which have not arrived, I feel closer still.
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