“I slipped between the sheets a few minutes before three, opened my eyes at five on the dot and got up feeling strangely refreshed. I had no commitments that morning, so I thought I’d go for a walk. I had a shower, shaved, put on some comfortable old cotton trousers, a denim shirt and a sweatshirt. I wore gymshoes and a leather jacket. Outside it was starting to get light. I was already at the door when it occurred to me that I might take a book, stop and read somewhere. In a garden or a café, a...s I used to do years before. So I looked over the books that I’d never arranged but were there in my flat. All over the place, scattered provisionally. I had a momentary thought that they were provisional there just as I was, but immediately I told myself that this was a banal, pathetic notion. I therefore stopped philosophizing and returned to simply choosing a book. I picked up Arthur Schnitzler’s Dream Story, in a cheap edition that fitted easily into the pocket of my leather jacket. I took some cigarettes, deliberately did not take my mobile, and left the house.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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