X tells me he falls back into his little hole every day and drinks to fill it back up. Then I hover above it, he says, grinning like a chimp on a branch while I sense it there below me, in the back of my mind. Will you be my chimp behaviourist, he asks me, will you teach me the words I need? No, of course you won’t.
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Everyone carries a room about inside him. This fact can even be proved by means of the sense of hearing. If someone walks fast and one pricks up one's ears and listens, say in the night, when everything round about is quiet, one hears, for instance, the rattling of a mirror not quite firmly fastened to the wall.
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Kafka
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