MS-HRC-SB-5-9-3

[2229.1] where I don't know anybody, it's night,
everyone has gone home, I walk in the streets,
I take them one after another, it's the town
of my youth, I'm looking for my mother to
kill her, I should have thought of it earlier
in the day, before being born, it's
raining, I'm all right, I stride along in

[2229.1] middle of the roadway, with great
yaws to right and left, [2229.2] now that's all
over, with closed eyes I see the same thing as
with them open, namely, wait, I'll say it,
I'll try and say it, I'm curious to know
what it can possibly be that I see, with
closed eyes, with open eyes, nothing, I see
nothing, well that is a disappointment, I

[2229.2] was hoping for something better than that,
is that what it is not to be able to lose
yourself, I'm asking myself
a question, is that what is, to see nothing,
no matter where I look, nor, eyeless, the
little creature in his
different disguises coming and going, now in shadow, now in

[2229.2] light, doing his best, seeking the
means to stay among the living, to get
off with his life, or shut up looking out
of the window at the ever changing sky,
is that it, not to be able to lose myself,
I don't know, what did I see in the
old days, ^{out of my eye,} when I ventured a quick look,
I don't know, I don't remember.

[2230] There I am in any case equipped with eyes,
which I open and close, two, perhaps
blue, knowing it avails nothing, for I
have a head too now, where all kinds of
things are known, can it be of me I'm speaking,
is it possible, of course not, that's another
thing I know, I'll speak of me when I speak
no ^longer.

[2231] In any case it's not a matter of
speaking of me, but of speaking, of speaking
no longer, this slight confusion augurs well,
now I'll have to find another name for this
latest surrogate, with his head splitting
with vile certainties and his doll's eyes,

[2231] later on, later, first I must describe him
in more detail, see what he is capable of,
whence he comes and whither he returns,
in his head of course, we don't intend to
relapse into picaresque, with
the ^stink of Mahood and Worm still in our
nostrils.

[2232] Now it's I holding forth, the
besiegers have departed, I am master on
board, after the rats, I no longer crawl
between the thwarts, under the moon,
in the shadow of the lash, strange this
mixture of solid and liquid, a little air is