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[...] I noticed one night that she was letting me have my way with her just to please me, but she wasn’t enjoying it; that in fact she wanted to think about other things besides my unwelcome sexual advances, but, because of her saintly character, she couldn’t say so. Anyway, I realised this of my o…

I should make a brief digression here – within the long digression, you might say, of this handwritten exercise I’ve so cautiously embarked upon – to say that I became a writer not because it was my calling, but for complicated socio-politico-econo-psychological reasons. At this moment, for example…

Above this is a heading that refers to time (the date, the hour), but time has lost almost all meaning for me. I can say ‘some time ago’, but I’m not at all sure how much time the ‘some’ might cover: weeks, yes, but perhaps even months. Well, whatever it means, some time ago these words appeared in…

When I woke up today, I carried on thinking. It occurred to me that I should do something; since there’s no sign of anything new, or any change or interesting surprise, I should take matters into my own hands and create a suitable topic for the ending. Then I decided that wasn’t really allowed. I c…

It felt like I was dying, but I was telling the truth. I’d been recommending she go to therapy from very early on, and she waited two or three years before taking my advice. Now she was reaching the stage of detaching herself from me, and above all, I imagine, of the more important detachment from …