Sublime

Whether it was morning or evening, Friday or Sunday, made no difference, it was all just the same: the gnawing, unmitigated, agonizing pain, never ceasing for an instant, the consciousness of life inexorably waning but not yet extinguished,

But shame was a very old habit with him. He had long considered it penitential, payment extracted in the form of steady, tolerable misery, against a debt he would never settle. He was even a little loyal to it, as if it assured him there was justice in the universe.

Un soir d’été, la chaleur était moite, étouffante, Soraya ne vint pas à notre rendez-vous et ne répondit pas davantage à mes appels téléphoniques. Le lendemain je la contactai à nouveau, en vain. Les jours suivants je me présentai chez elle à plusieurs reprises mais, à chaque fois, la porte resta close.

Winter, a wicked guest, is sitting at home with me; my hands are blue from the handshake of his friendship. I honor this wicked guest, but I like to let him sit alone. I like to run away from him; and if one runs well, one escapes him. With warm feet and warm thoughts I run where the wind stands still, to the sunny nook of my mount of olives. There