A Short Story
In his dream he is reading a short story but becomes increasingly irritated by its shallow profundity, its coquettish and laboured prose. At last he can no longer contain himself: furiously he tears out the words and drops them one by one into an empty tobacco tin. He heaves on his coat and makes his way down the moonlit path to the lakeside. There he empties the tin. How the black letters bob on the waves like beetles and water-spiders! Soon, very soon, they’ll dissolve and vanish.
(1968)
Translated by Robin Fulton
Page(s) 13
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