MS-WU-MSS008-2-47

[1286] day, with all my feeble strength, and ^{[place = inline] [⁁] [place = supralinear] how} often day to break, all the
livelong night. [1287] But before leaving this subject and entering upon
another, I feel it incumbent on me to say that it is never light
in this place, never really light.

[1288] The light is there, outside,
the air sparkles, the granite wall across the way glitters with
all its mica, the light is against my window, but it does not
come through. So that here all bathes, I will not say in shadow,
nor even in half-shadow, but in a kind of leaden light that makes
no shadow, so that it is hard to say from what direction it comes,
for it seems to come from all directions at once, and with equal
force.

[1289] I am convinced for example that at the present moment it
is as bright under my bed as it is under the ceiling, which ad-
mittedly is not saying much, but I need say no more. [1290] A ^{[place = overwritten] A}nd does not ^{[place = inline] [⁁] [place = margin left] that} [ ^{[place = supralinear] that}]
amount to simply saying ^{[place = inline] [⁁] [place = margin left] simply [place = margin left] [₰]} [ ^{[place = supralinear] simply}] this, that there is really no colour in
this place, except in so far as this kind of greay ^{[place = margin left] [₰]} incandescence
may be called a colour?

[1291] Yes, no doubt one may speak of grey, per-
sonally I have no objection, in which ^{[place = margin left] case [⁁]} [ ^{[place = supralinear] case}] the conflict here would
lie between this grey and the black that it overlays more or less,
I was going to say according to the time of day, but no, it does
not always seem to be a question of the time of day.

[1292] I myself am
very grey, I even sometimes have the feeling that I emit grey,
in ^{[place = overwritten] n} the same way ^{[place = overwritten] y} as my sheets for example. [1293] And my night is not
the sky's. [1294] Naturally black is black the whole world over. [1295] But
how is it my little space is not visited by the luminaries I
sometimes see shining afar and how is it the moon where Cain
toils bowed beneath his burden never sheds its light on my face?