Andnow what other discovery will there be? Thenhe got up and went; we all got up; we all went. Hisfriends observed in him a growing tendency to domesticity . Life is not susceptible perhaps to the treatment we give it when wetry to tell it. Andimmense dullness would descend unbroken, monotonous. For it is difficult to finish a letter in somebodyelses style. I likeall this when I have despatched the enemy for a moment. Cucumbers and tomatoes ripened in herhothouses. Through his landscape the tramsquealed; the factory poured its acrid fumes. Tuesday follows Monday;Wednesday Tuesday. Sitting up late at night it seems strange not tohave more control. Andnow what other discovery will there be? The gardenerssweep with great brooms and the lady sits writing. We exist not only separately but inundifferentiated blobs of matter. The gardeners swept; the lady at the table satwriting. About the age offorty he would have shocked the authorities. Oneleaps out of bed, throws up the window; with what a whirr the birdsrise! I was like oneadmitted behind the scenes: like one shown how the effects areproduced. Yet some doubt remained, some note of interrogation. We grew; we changed; for, of course, we areanimals. The trees,scattered, put on order; the thick green of the leaves thinneditself to a dancing light. He fascinated me withhis sordid imagination. Then says some lady with an impressive gesture, Come with me. That is the biographic style, and it does totack together torn bits of stuff, stuff with raw edges. That is the biographic style, and it does totack together torn bits of stuff, stuff with raw edges. Swelling, perpetually augmented, there is a vastaccumulation of unrecorded matter in my head. Our half-loves and half-hates and ambiguities on thesepoints were to him indefensible treacheries. So little flames zigzag over the cracks in the dryearth. Nevertheless, life is pleasant, life is tolerable. He haunted meanstreets and towns where women lay drunk, naked, on counterpanes onChristmas day. We grew; we changed; for, of course, we areanimals.
