Fordere nicht zuviel, und fürchte nicht, daß Deine gerechte Forderung ins Nichts zerrinnen wird.

Don´t demand too much, and don´t be afraid that what you demand justly will melt into nothing.

(Wittgenstein´s journals, 1941, tr. Peter Winch)

A bright March morning. In a couple of hours i go to case the joint at Philosophenweg – a flat Morgana found, it looks good from the ad but perhaps i will turn up and find only madness and mould and moustaches. Although, judging from my past, the future will be grim (hellishly long days teaching lummoxes Bollocks English), i increasingly feel something like “hope”, disgusting as this is for a man of my temperament.

Talking with Morgana this morning over coffee, she clad superbly all in black, i was taken by her extreme elvenness, her singularity and unpredictable temper and need; i reflected that had my expectations and desires come to pass i would now be elsewhere, elseone, and difficult as it is to be an Elberry in the modern world, this is how i should be, where i should be, now.

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