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295 pages, Paperback
Published August 24, 2018
There, in the midst of a chalk-white plain, ringed round on all sides, like a new graveyard, by bare, bleak walls, rose the huge building with its tiled roof, its clock-face gleaming in the sun, and endless rows of small, barred windows. It would have been taken for an ordinary prison but for the gold lettering on the cornice over the first story: The Oscar Thibault Foundation.
But it’s just this – this softness, do you see? And then, having nothing to do all day, tied up like that with nothing, absolutely nothing to do. At first the hours seemed to me so, so long, you’ve no idea. But one day I broke the mainspring of my watch, and since then it’s been better, little by little I’ve got used to it. But I don’t know how to express it, it’s as if one had gone asleep deep down in oneself.