Iâd expected, or in other words, it didnât just grow worse. In a way, it wasnât progressive, and even seemed to be progressing unfavorably. In a way, that was quite natural. Like all diseases, the disease I was suffering from went through a cycle of relapse, temporary improvement, and sudden relapse again.
But through the disease, I began to change in many, no, perhaps not so many, ways. More than anything, I had great difficulty reading, and had a very hard time understanding sentences. It took several times more effort than before for me to etch a sentence in my mind, and in fact, I had to think as if I were etching words onto a metal plate, using a chisel or hammering a cleat.
Anyway, something else that filled up my mind, which was full of thoughts on death, while I was in such poor condition, was thoughts on everyday life, which became routine for me after I passed out and could do nearly nothing because of my dizziness, which became part of my everyday life, which led me to think about everyday life, perhaps in a completely new way. I thought about the various aspects and dimensions of everyday life, and the everyday life of which I thought encompassed everyday moments or period of time in which I thought about things, including facts that bothered me on a daily basis, such as the fact that humans donât even know their origin, let alone anything else, or rather, that theyâve never even found a clue as to their origin, let alone their origin, and wondered if they would learn their origin someday, and looked at a sofa that needed to be replaced and had a hard time deciding on the shape and size of the sofa that would replace it, because although it could be easily replaced, depending on circumstances, the replacement would be not so easy when I considered that the new sofa would be with me for several years, and looked at a cat I knew, having seen it many times before, walking drenched in the rain on a heavily rainy day when I also took a walk, drenched in the rain even though I was carrying anumbrella, and looked at the leaves of a tree gently folding themselves, probably to protect themselves in the heavy rain, and wondered if it was true that certain leaves did so to relieve the shock from the streaks of rain, and thought that those two things were the most memorable of the things that happened to me that day or week, or month, and thought about the thoughts I had even in my sleep, and was amused by the thought that Jains and Zoroastrians existed in the world, and decided that I should put off doing the laundry for a few days, which Iâd been putting off for a long time, and had the banal thought that nothing really mattered, and thought about how Iâd give my goldfish a proper funeral if it died, and drank some tomato juice, and wiping the red liquid on my mouth, thought about the Battle of Stalingrad, perhaps the most gruesome of all the battles fought in human history, in which soldiers, having run out of vodka, drank antifreeze filtered through the carbon filters on their gas masks and sang in chorus a song that was at times called âFour Steps to Death,â and thought about Stalin, whom Iâd caught a glimpse of in a black and white documentary film looking somewhat sulky, as if left out by the two Western leaders next to him who had gathered at the Yalta Conference to discuss issues related to the Second World War after it came to an end and were smoking and laughing somewhat facetiously, and as if feeling uncomfortable at the facetiousness of the two leaders (he looks as if heâs trying somehow to show the two Western leaders who are rubbing him the wrong way that heâs not happy), and wondered what he mustâve been like as a boy full of dreams, and thought that perhaps at that moment, he felt deeply offended by the two Western leaders and thought, As soon asI return to Moscow, the hub of the world, Iâm going to come up with a way to teach these
But through the disease, I began to change in many, no, perhaps not so many, ways. More than anything, I had great difficulty reading, and had a very hard time understanding sentences. It took several times more effort than before for me to etch a sentence in my mind, and in fact, I had to think as if I were etching words onto a metal plate, using a chisel or hammering a cleat.
Anyway, something else that filled up my mind, which was full of thoughts on death, while I was in such poor condition, was thoughts on everyday life, which became routine for me after I passed out and could do nearly nothing because of my dizziness, which became part of my everyday life, which led me to think about everyday life, perhaps in a completely new way. I thought about the various aspects and dimensions of everyday life, and the everyday life of which I thought encompassed everyday moments or period of time in which I thought about things, including facts that bothered me on a daily basis, such as the fact that humans donât even know their origin, let alone anything else, or rather, that theyâve never even found a clue as to their origin, let alone their origin, and wondered if they would learn their origin someday, and looked at a sofa that needed to be replaced and had a hard time deciding on the shape and size of the sofa that would replace it, because although it could be easily replaced, depending on circumstances, the replacement would be not so easy when I considered that the new sofa would be with me for several years, and looked at a cat I knew, having seen it many times before, walking drenched in the rain on a heavily rainy day when I also took a walk, drenched in the rain even though I was carrying anumbrella, and looked at the leaves of a tree gently folding themselves, probably to protect themselves in the heavy rain, and wondered if it was true that certain leaves did so to relieve the shock from the streaks of rain, and thought that those two things were the most memorable of the things that happened to me that day or week, or month, and thought about the thoughts I had even in my sleep, and was amused by the thought that Jains and Zoroastrians existed in the world, and decided that I should put off doing the laundry for a few days, which Iâd been putting off for a long time, and had the banal thought that nothing really mattered, and thought about how Iâd give my goldfish a proper funeral if it died, and drank some tomato juice, and wiping the red liquid on my mouth, thought about the Battle of Stalingrad, perhaps the most gruesome of all the battles fought in human history, in which soldiers, having run out of vodka, drank antifreeze filtered through the carbon filters on their gas masks and sang in chorus a song that was at times called âFour Steps to Death,â and thought about Stalin, whom Iâd caught a glimpse of in a black and white documentary film looking somewhat sulky, as if left out by the two Western leaders next to him who had gathered at the Yalta Conference to discuss issues related to the Second World War after it came to an end and were smoking and laughing somewhat facetiously, and as if feeling uncomfortable at the facetiousness of the two leaders (he looks as if heâs trying somehow to show the two Western leaders who are rubbing him the wrong way that heâs not happy), and wondered what he mustâve been like as a boy full of dreams, and thought that perhaps at that moment, he felt deeply offended by the two Western leaders and thought, As soon asI return to Moscow, the hub of the world, Iâm going to come up with a way to teach these
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