The Convalescent
The Convalescent

Summary/Abstract: Ugh! – this is how I stared at the ceiling, at its never changing lines and hues, every morning of the week. To be sure, what we call morning here is the result of the abnormal way of life which I’m not to blame for, but rather nature or God or Spinoza or whoever it was that came before me and wound-up (what a word!) the time that we have today. This is to say that in my private form of capitalism twenty-four hours is too short a period for to turn over someone’s life. Thirty-six hours would be the minimum, really, because my time, the only money I have, and my life, the only real capital at hand, turn into one another so, so slowly, extremely slowly, like death, you know, slow

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