could be found in the loss of consciousness, a pleasure that could be found if you sought to find it. The moment I lost consciousness, I actually thought that I was pulling and taking off a womanâs skirt, a daring yet rude thing to do, but one that was delightful in a way, and also thought that I couldnât help laughing, though it wasnât something to laugh about, but I donât think I actually laughed.
The swooning also brought a peculiar sort of satisfaction, for there seemed to be an infinite space within the dizziness of swooning through which I could spread out infinitely, after being sucked up into the whirlpool of dizziness because of dizziness. And the incident gave me a sense of anticipation, a great sense of anticipation, for more to come in the future (anticipation is a very strange thing, making you anticipate such things, and making you, at times, anticipate your own fall and decline above all).
Having woken up by the window, I felt as if I could lose consciousness again at any moment, and everything seemed like a lie, and I thought somewhat clearly that everything seemed like a lie, in a way that was different from the way in which life itself seemed like a lie, but that there was nothing strange about it. In the end, I felt an acute pain in my knee joint, which had been bad for some time, and while trying to focus on it, wondered, This pain, whereâs its origin, and when was its origin? but it occurred to me that these expressions werenât correct, so I wondered again, What is the origin of this pain? and wondered if this expression was correct as I lost consciousness again, and this time I woke up in the bathroom. I couldnât remember how Iâd made my way from the window to the bathroom and why there of all places either.
Sitting crumpled on the bathroom floor, and feeling great sorrow this time, I thought that Iâd never be able to regain my consciousness if I lost it again and agonized over whether I should stay where I was, hoping to get better, or go to the emergency room, and if I were to go to the emergency room how Iâd get there, and thought that Iâd never gone to the emergency room in an ambulance and felt an urge to do so, but in the end, I called a taxi, and while being taken away in a taxi, I clenched my hand tightly, as if I holding onto a string of consciousness which Iâd lose forever if I let go, and thought that it wouldnât matter that much even if I did lose consciousness, as if falling asleep, on my way to the hospital, and again thought, somewhat playfully, that if I swooned again, I should make sure to grab the hem of a womanâs skirt.
I got to the emergency room and lay on a bed without being able to properly explain my symptoms to the doctor, and as he took certain measures, I wondered whether or not I should let go of the string of consciousness, and felt a strong desire to do so, even while fighting against it, and saw the curtains flapping in the open window, and remembered that it was while I was staying cooped up in a hotel in New York that I thought, looking at the curtains that were flapping in the same way, that I wouldnât go outside unless a gigantic sailboat, with a full load and the sails taut with wind, entered through the window, and the memory brought me a strange, almost unbearable, pleasure.
But death, which someone said wasnât a part of life since you canât experience it when youâre alive, passed me by. Or should I say that I passed by death? But even after I recovered somewhat and left the hospital, I had to stay lying down most of the time. On some days I had difficulty just going from my bedroom to the bathroom, and barely managed to do so, holding onto the wall that led from my bedroom to the bathroom and feeling as if I were walking in a desert, utterly exhausted from dehydration and the blazing sun. But my disease, which caused dizziness, didnât develop in a certain direction as
The swooning also brought a peculiar sort of satisfaction, for there seemed to be an infinite space within the dizziness of swooning through which I could spread out infinitely, after being sucked up into the whirlpool of dizziness because of dizziness. And the incident gave me a sense of anticipation, a great sense of anticipation, for more to come in the future (anticipation is a very strange thing, making you anticipate such things, and making you, at times, anticipate your own fall and decline above all).
Having woken up by the window, I felt as if I could lose consciousness again at any moment, and everything seemed like a lie, and I thought somewhat clearly that everything seemed like a lie, in a way that was different from the way in which life itself seemed like a lie, but that there was nothing strange about it. In the end, I felt an acute pain in my knee joint, which had been bad for some time, and while trying to focus on it, wondered, This pain, whereâs its origin, and when was its origin? but it occurred to me that these expressions werenât correct, so I wondered again, What is the origin of this pain? and wondered if this expression was correct as I lost consciousness again, and this time I woke up in the bathroom. I couldnât remember how Iâd made my way from the window to the bathroom and why there of all places either.
Sitting crumpled on the bathroom floor, and feeling great sorrow this time, I thought that Iâd never be able to regain my consciousness if I lost it again and agonized over whether I should stay where I was, hoping to get better, or go to the emergency room, and if I were to go to the emergency room how Iâd get there, and thought that Iâd never gone to the emergency room in an ambulance and felt an urge to do so, but in the end, I called a taxi, and while being taken away in a taxi, I clenched my hand tightly, as if I holding onto a string of consciousness which Iâd lose forever if I let go, and thought that it wouldnât matter that much even if I did lose consciousness, as if falling asleep, on my way to the hospital, and again thought, somewhat playfully, that if I swooned again, I should make sure to grab the hem of a womanâs skirt.
I got to the emergency room and lay on a bed without being able to properly explain my symptoms to the doctor, and as he took certain measures, I wondered whether or not I should let go of the string of consciousness, and felt a strong desire to do so, even while fighting against it, and saw the curtains flapping in the open window, and remembered that it was while I was staying cooped up in a hotel in New York that I thought, looking at the curtains that were flapping in the same way, that I wouldnât go outside unless a gigantic sailboat, with a full load and the sails taut with wind, entered through the window, and the memory brought me a strange, almost unbearable, pleasure.
But death, which someone said wasnât a part of life since you canât experience it when youâre alive, passed me by. Or should I say that I passed by death? But even after I recovered somewhat and left the hospital, I had to stay lying down most of the time. On some days I had difficulty just going from my bedroom to the bathroom, and barely managed to do so, holding onto the wall that led from my bedroom to the bathroom and feeling as if I were walking in a desert, utterly exhausted from dehydration and the blazing sun. But my disease, which caused dizziness, didnât develop in a certain direction as
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