“The enemies of happiness are awake! Hold to your happiness with both hands. Tomorrow all work will stop and all the numbers are to come to be operated upon. Those who fail to come will be submitted to the machine of the well-doer.”

Tomorrow! How can there be, how can there be any tomorrow?

Following my daily habit, I stretched out my arm (instrument!) to the bookshelf to put today’s paper with the rest in a cover ornamented with gold. While doing this: “What for? What does it matter? Never again shall I.⁠ ⁠… In this cover, never.⁠ ⁠…” And out of my hands, down to the floor it fell.