Entire days to live. Huge hours to fill. My mind, happy, but tormented, opens its hands wide. I have difficulty describing my feelings, my sensations as if a cyclone would fall on the few certainties that serve as my conscience. I am just finishing a reading on Nietzsche's thinking and getting ready to start an introduction to existentialism. I want to know where the thinking stands on this point.
I went to the funeral of my cousin Christian, who died prematurely at 35. Since the family on my mother's side is very large, I have many cousins I don't know, including this Christian whom I probably saw just two or three times, and at a very young age. I only saw him once, as an adult, about ten years ago. He was a very handsome man. End of story.