be getting mixed, confusing here and there, now and then, just as I confused them then, the here of then, the then of there, with other spaces, other times, dimly discerned, but not more dimly than now, now that I'm here, if I'm here, and no longer there, coming and going before the graveyard, perplexed. Or did I end up by simply sitting down, with my back to the wall, all the long night before me when the dead lie waiting, on the beds where they died, shrouded or coffined, for the sun to rise ? What am I doing now, I'm trying to see where I am, so as to be able to go elsewhere, should occasion arise, or else simply to say, You have merely to wait till they come and fetch you, that's my impression at times. Then it goes and I see it's not that, but something else, difficult to grasp, and which I don't grasp, or which I do grasp, it depends, and it comes to the same, for it's not that either, but something else, some other thing, or the first back again, or still the same, always the same, always the same thing proposing itself to my perplexity, then disappearing, then proposing itself again, to my perplexity still unsated, or momentarily dead, of starvation. The graveyard, yes, it's there I'd return, this evening it's there, borne by my words, if I could get out of here, that it to say if I could say, There's a way out there, there's a way out somewhere, to know exactly where would be a mere matter of time, and patience, and sequency of thought, and felicity of expression. But the body, to get there with, where's the body ? It's a minor point, a minor point. And I have no doubts, I'd get there somehow, to the way out, sooner or later, if I could say, There's a way out there, there's a way out somewhere, the rest would come, the other words, sooner or later, and the power to get there, and the way to get there, and pass out, and see the beauties of the skies, and see the stars again.
seulement. il voulais que on s’accroche les uns au autres pour connaitre la valeur de notre vie sur terre et prendre soins des deux et toute est possible et quand en veut on peut et ce n’est jamais la guerre qui ressouderas nos problèmes ces bien la pais en utilisent l’amoure et la conscience et on doit ce dire comment les gens prendraient t’ils notre mort quelle seras notre réputation quoique nous soyons musellements c retiens ou bien juives hommes ou femmes riches ou pauvres même chose pour la différence de couleurs la perfection est impossibles mais en peut toujours essayer et il ya toujours de l’espoir quand en veut bien faire et comme il se dit le hasard fait bien des choses il suffis que nous ayons tous un bon grand ceaur.