Last night again, for a long time in that same place. It's strange, because I wouldn't be able to tell the precise memory of all that took place, but with every circumstance of the morning, every moment the impression is, "Ah, this was decided last night ... ah, I saw that last night...." Like that. Strange. And it's always the night before the day when I am to see you.
***
(Mother reads out the message she intends to
distribute for January 1, 1968:)
"Remain young.
Never stop striving towards perfection."
***
(Then Mother goes into a long contemplation lasting
nearly forty-five minutes.)
Anything to say, or to ask?... As for me, I can stay like this indefinitely. It never happens, mind you [[Because Mother never has the time. ]] - yes, for a minute or two, but a long moment like this gives me a sort of bath of tranquil light: there's nothing left, nothing stirs anymore, it's all luminous, peaceful, tranquil ... a sort of bliss. Whew!
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