MS-WU-MSS008-3-49

[1050] it does not in other places, where there is less constraint, and as it
does not during the day, when there is more vigilance, and then something
else that is not clear, being neither the air nor what it moves. [1051] Perhaps
it is the far unchanging noise the earth makes and which other noises
cover, but not for long. [1052] For they do not account for that noise you
hear when you really listen, when all seems hushed. [1053] And there was
another noise, that of my life become the life of this garden as it rode
the earth of deeps and wilds.

[1054] Yes, there were times when I forgot not
only who I was, but what I was, forgot to be. [1055] Then I was no longer that
sealed jar to which I was indebted for being so well preserved, but a
wall gave way and I was filled with roots and tame stems for example,
stakes long since dead and ready for burning, the release of night and
the imminence of dawn, and then the labour of the planet, rolling eager
into winter, winter would rid it of these contem^ptible scabs.

[1056] Or I was
of that winter the precarious calm, the thaw of the snows which make no
difference and all the horrors of it all all over again. [1057] But that
didn't happen to me often who stayed in my jar which knew neither
seasons nor gardens. [1058] And a good thing too. [1059] But in there you have to
watch out, ask yourself questions, as for example whether you still are,
and if no, when it stopped, and if yes how long it will still go on,
anything at all to keep you from losing the thread of the dream.

[1060] For my
part I willingly asked myself questions, one after the other, just for
the sake of looking at them. [1061] No, not willingly, wisely, so I might
believe I was still there. [1062] And yet it meant nothing to me to be still
there. [1063] I called that thinking. [1064] I thought almost without stopping, I
did not dare stop. [1065] Perhaps that was the cause of my innocence. [1066] It
was a little the worse for wear, a little threadbare perhaps, but I was