I kept feeling as if I were on the point of understanding something, but this comprehension remained at the tip of my lacerated fingers, mocking me, imperceptibly withdrawing as I approached it. Finally a thought allowed itself to be grasped: I contemplated it with disgust, but since none other wanted to come take its place, I had to grant it its due. I placed it on the night table like a heavy old coin: if I tapped it with my fingernail, it sounded true, no matter how often I flipped it, it always presented me with the same impassive face.
