Shut up for a second, I tell X, can’t you see I’m busy? A house move is no joke, there are a thousand things that need doing, let me concentrate. You should be helping me focus my mind and energy. Instead, it’s like having a beggar tramping around with me everywhere I go. But at least when I’m busy you talk less. That’s what I should do, stay busy. Busy, busy, busy, then maybe you’d fade away and bother someone else. Isn’t that what people do, I say, think up some project and then another, call someone and then someone else, stay busy all day, then go to bed and wake up and do it all over again or think up different things to do, isn’t that how they get through life without topping themselves, without taking up with the likes of you in the first place? That’s what you should be helping me with if you really want to help, I tell him: staying in time. It’s when I drop out of time that I’m tempted to listen to you, watch you, as you breathe your rotten breath in my face and tug at my sleeve… Just stay with me, clean yourself up and be quiet if you really want to help, I say. Do as I do and shut up for a second, I have to assemble the bed and call the council.
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.
Notes for a fragmentary novel entitled The Moment, linked at the top of the page.
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