[p. 80v]
[1632] them, that and that my story, so clear up till now, may not end close in obscurity, in the obscurity of these this vast wildwood, these giant fronds, the obscurity of the giant fronds of this vast wildwood where I hobble go my hopp go my hobbling way,
halting, listening, falling, rising, listening, hobbling on, and sometimes wondering,
needless to say, if I shall ever see again the hated light, the unloved light, palely spread between the last stems, and my mother, to settle our account, and if I should had not rather better hang myself from a bough, with a liane tendril.
[1633] For as to the light, frankly, I did not want it, and as to my mother, it was perhaps too much to expect that she was still waiting for me, after all this time.
[1634] And my leg, my legs.
[1635] But the idea thought of suicide had little hold on me, I don't know why, I thought I knew, but I see not.
[1636] The idea thought of strangulation alt in particular, however tempting, I had always vanquished, after a short struggle.
[1637] The truth is I had never anything the matter with the respiratory tracts, had any trouble with my respiratory tracts, apart naturally from the disorders inherent to that inseparable from that system.
[1638] Yes, I could count the days when the air, with its celebrated oxygen, refused to go down inside me would neither go down inside me nor, having finally done so, let itself be expelled, I could have counted them.
[1639] Ah yes, my asthma, how m how often I was tempted to put an end to it, by cutting my throat.
[1640] But I never gave in.
[1641] The noise betrayed me, I turned purple.
[1642] This came on mostly at night, on which I could not make up my mind decide whether I should to be be sorry or glad.
[1643] For if sudden changes of complexion are of less consequence by night, on the other hand the least uncommon untoward noise is then more noticeable, because of the silence of the
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[p. 81r]
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