EPILOGUE No. 4
12.15
Sitting here in this carriage full of children and speculators, sitting on a hopelessly hard bench, looking in the window and choking on spirits, I already know now, at the age of 19, what I will be thinking about in ten years time, I know what I will be thinking about, but the main thing isn’t even this—the main thing is that I know what I will never think about, never in this world, not a single time, even accidentally. I will never think that everything could have been different, that everything depended on me and was in my hands, that it was really I who created my path and governed circumstances around me, this I will never think in my life. Everything has to be just like this, like this and no other way, and even this might never have been, it’s a great happine
