One has just been sent out as a biblical dove, has found nothing green, and slips back
into the darkness of the ark -- Kafka

Saturday, October 5, 2013

Kafka's "Letters to Felice"

Temporarily set aside Kafka's letters to read Julian Barnes' new book: Levels of Life. A last bit (for awhile) from Letters to Felice:

Under the influence of the telegram I had gone to bed very early, before 9 (I handle myself somewhat capriciously), woke up at 2, and awake, with my eyes open, but still under the influence of sleep, and therefore with uninterrupted and rather magical visions, I thought of you, and of a possible journey to Berlin. Beautiful, easy connections were effected, without any trouble, motorcars soared like lovers, telephone conversations worked as though one were holding hands at the time, I had better stop thinking about it -- the more awake I was, the more restless I became, then got out of bed about 4, did my exercises, washed, and wrote two pages for myself, but felt too restless to go on, then wrote these preceding two pages, but abandoned them as well, and with a buzzing head went back to bed where I stayed until 9 in the morning in a heavy sleep in which, by the way, you also appeared, for a brief conversation with a friend's family.
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