The Last Moments Slipped By, One By

I Have Been Writing In Spurts, Bit By Bit. It Is Incredibly Difficult. Everything Is Corroded, Broken, Dismantled; Everything Is Covered With Hardened Layers Of Accumulated Insensitivity, Deafness, Entrenched Routine. It Is Disgusting.

A Conscious Attempt To Fall Asleep Is Sure To Produce Insomnia, To Try To Be Conscious Of One's Own Digestion Is A Sure Way To Upset The Stomach. Consciousness Is A Poison When We Apply It To Ourselves. Consciousness Is A Light Directed Outward. It's Like The Headlights On A Locomotive—turn Them Inward And You'd Have A Crash.

Surprise Is The Greatest Gift Which Life Can Grant Us.

If You Want To Know, Life Is The Principle Of Self-renewal, It Is Constantly Renewing And Remaking And Changing And Transfiguring Itself.

And So It Turned Out That Only A Life Similar To The Life Of Those Around Us, Merging With It Without A Ripple, Is Genuine Life, And That An Unshared Happiness Is Not Happiness.