me again,
for I am drowning in memory!
I drown in memory, and still I leave the same house, in the morning, for the same work. And I come back in the afternoon, at the same hour, with the same flush on my face. And the same smothered grief. And the same ghosts of a smile...
No,
I have no right to dream. And no right to remember. And no right to apologize:
For at this moment,
fertile dreams have died within me. And memories have faded away... And a man I know passed by. And moved his hands, lighting the tip of a cigarette; and I asked him about his child. And about his wife, and about the mountain. And about the transportation. And about his health...
And the man moved off, and a rapture of reassurance flooded over me, at my power to strive, like men, to build a future for myself, and for many others.
And I locked the door, drawing up a program for the few days of my annual leave:
I shall see a masterpiece by one of the writers of the modern theater, in the temple of Bacchus, for I recoil from the classical plays: their atmospheres, and their sternness, and their manners... Shall I visit my family in the mountain? I shall not visit them, for I seize upon the summer to be rid of their heavy, tiresome breathing. I shall fling myself down on a solitary, unknown shore, from morning till evening — cooking no food. Washing no dishes. Sweeping no tiles... And I shall finish my reading of the book by "Albert Camus" — The Plague — and I shall drag my feet along the sidewalks, the heat wearying me. And the displays of the shops tempting me. And I shall be lulled by the picture of a flowered dress, and lights, and mad music,
and a dance imp-footed in its steps, on a pure summit in the darkness of our sky!
No — wait,
for who is to oversee the carrying-out of all this: what man?
I am not free to undertake any act; I need a man in order to exercise my right to life, in order
to win my freedom!
I am tired!
Who, then, is this almighty one, and who am I, the abased? The door is locked, and fertile dreams have died within me, and memories have faded away...