Your wings have atrophied. Distraught, you go hopping among the men. They approach you with great suspicion. After all, you are a dangerous bird, a pilferer, a jackdaw. A jackdaw that dreams of disappearing between the stones… alone… like Franz Kafka.
“As someone said to me–I can’t remember now who it was–it is really remarkable that when you wake up in the morning you nearly always find everything in exactly the same place as the evening before. For when asleep and dreaming you are, apparently at least, in an essentially different state from that of wakefulness; and therefore, as that man truly said, it requires enormous presence of mind or rather quickness of wit, when opening your eyes to seize hold as it were of everything in the room at exactly the same place where you had let it go on the previous evening. That was why, he said, the moment of waking up was the riskiest moment of the day. Once that was well over without deflecting you from your orbit, you could take heart of grace for the rest of the day.”
“It is astounding how I have systematically destroyed myself in the course of the years, it was like a slowly widening breach in a dam, a purposeful action. The spirit that brought it about must now be celebrating triumphs, why doesn’t it let me take part in them ? But perhaps it hasn’t yet achieved its purpose and can therefore think of nothing else ”
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