If there is one question I dread, to which I have never been able to invent a satisfactory reply, it is the question what am I doing. - Samuel Beckett

To decompose is to live too, I know, I know, don't torment me, but one sometimes forgets. And of that life too I shall tell you perhaps one day, the day I know that when I thought I knew I was merely existing and that passion without form or stations will have devoured me down to the rotting flesh itself and that when I know that I know nothing, am only crying out as I have always cried out, more or less piercingly, more or less openly. Let me cry out then, it's said to be good for you. Yes let me cry out, this time, then another time perhaps, then perhaps a last time.

story … if you could finish it … you could rest … you could sleep … not before … oh I know … the ones I’ve finished … thousands and one … all I ever did … in my life … with my life … saying to myself … finish this one … it’s the right one … then rest …

لا شيء ينقضي، لا أحد يأتي، لا أحد يذهب، هذا رهيب.