MS-HRC-SB-4-3

[1510] almost buried in a casket, swelling. [1512] No matter, what matters is
that in spite of my stories I continue to fit in this room, let
us call it a room, that's all that matters, and I need not worry,
I'll fit in it as long as needs be.

[1513] And if I ever succeed in breath-
ing my last it will not be in the street, or in a hospital, but
here, in the midst of my possessions, beside this window that some-
times looks as if it were painted on the wall, like Tiepolo's ceil-
ing at Würzburg, what I ^a tourist I must have been, I even remember
the diaeresis, if it is one.

[1514] If only I could be sure, of my
deathbed I mean. [1515] And yet how often I have seen this old head swing
out through the door, low, for my big old bones weigh heavy, and
the door is low, lower and lower in my opinion.

[1516] And each time it
bangs against the jamb, my head does, for I am tall, and the land-
ing is small, and the man carrying my feet cannot wait, before he
starts down the stairs, for the whole of me to be out, on the land-
ing I mean, but he has to start turning before that, so as not
to bang into the wall, of the landing I mean.

[1517] So my head bangs
against the jamb, it's inevitable. [1518] And it doesn't matter to my
head, in the state tⁱt is in, but the man carrying it says, Eh Bob
esay^[  ] !, out of respect perhaps, for he doesn't know me, he didn't
know me, or for fear of hurting his fingers. [1519] Bang! [1520] Easy! [1521] Right!

[1522] The door!, [1523] and the room is vacant at last and ready to receive,
after disinfection, for you can't be too v^careful, a large family
or a pair of turtle doves. [1524] Yes, the event is past, but it's too
soon to use it, hence the delay, that's what I tell myself. [1525] But
I tell myself so many things, what truth is there in all this