Chapter 11 7

I'm back in the circular corridor now, still quite disturbed by my car-hunting adventure.There is a sign on countless doors, one by one, luring me inside: ┌——————————┐ │Deformation Room│ │Arbitrarily change into various animals│ └———————————┘ ┌——————————————————┐ │Kamasutram│ │ Teach ancient Indian love skills│ │Beginner Class: Twenty-Four Ways to Teach Love│ └——————————————————┘ ┌—————————┐ │Very happy suicide│ │ die laughing │ └——————————┘ ┌——————————┐ │Do you want to become a fairy? │ │Oriental Wisdom│ └———————————┘ ┌—————————————————┐ │Oh, if I had a thousand tongues! │

│Men only allowed inside│ └———————————————┘ ┌————————————┐ │Destruction of the West│ │Unprecedented spectacle at reduced price│ └————————————┘ ┌————————————┐ │General Art│ │Music turns time into space│ └————————————┘ ┌——————————┐ │Laughing Tears│ │Humor Room│ └——————————┘ ┌————————————————┐ │Hermit Games│ │An equivalent substitute for various social activities│ └———————————————┘ The brands are endless.On one door it was written: ┌——————————┐ │Character Structure Guidance│ │Guaranteed success│ └———————————┘ I thought this worth noting, so I went in the door.

It was a dark and quiet room with no oriental chairs. A man was sitting on the floor with something like a large chessboard in front of him.At first glance, he seemed to be my friend Pablo, at least, he also wore similar colored silk clothes, and he also had a pair of piercing black eyes. "Are you Pablo?" I asked. "I'm nobody," he explained kindly. "We don't have names here, we're not human here. I'm a chess player. Would you like a lesson in character construction?" "Yes, please enlighten me." "Then please provide me with dozens of your images."

"My image..." "You have seen your so-called character decomposed into many images, and this is what I want. I cannot play chess without images." He held a mirror in front of me.Again I saw the unity of my being disintegrated into many Is, and the number seemed to increase.Now, however, these figures are small, about the size of chess pieces, and chess players unhurriedly take out dozens of them with their fingers and place them on the ground beside the chessboard.At the same time, he spoke monotonously, as one repeats a speech or lecture he has already given: "The idea that man is an eternal whole is wrong, and it brings misfortune to man, as you know. You also know that man is made up of many souls and countless 'Is'. Disassemble man's false unity Because of these many images, it is regarded as crazy, for this reason, science also invented the name 'schizophrenia'. Of course, there is no priority, no certain order and arrangement, and this diversity cannot be controlled. In this sense , science is right. But on the other hand, science is not right that these many partial selves can only live in a single, interdependent system that lasts a lifetime. This mistake of the scientific community has some evil consequences , its value is only that the teachers and educators employed by the state find their work simplified, free from the need for thought and experimentation. Because of this mistake, many otherwise incurable madmen are seen as 'normal', which is very harmful to society. Useful people. On the contrary, some geniuses are regarded as crazy. Therefore, we want to supplement the scientific psychology with a new concept, which is called structural art. We show it to people who have experienced self-disintegration. The disintegrated parts can be recombined at will at any time, thus achieving the diversity of the drama of life. Just as a writer creates a play out of a few characters, we are constantly building new combinations out of the many images of the disassembled self, and these combinations New dramas are constantly performed, and new scenes are constantly changed, so that the drama always has new fascinating and tense plots. Please watch it!"

Silently, with his intelligent fingers he seized my image, all old men, young men, children, women, all lively and sad, strong and feeble, quick and clumsy. Man, quickly placing them on his board, arranged for a game.He quickly organized them into groups and families, let them compete and fight, made them friendly and hostile to each other, forming a small world.I watched with joy, in front of me, he made this lively and well-organized little world come alive, let them compete, fight, form alliances, fight wars, let them propose to each other, marry, and have children.This is really a drama with many characters and lively tension.

Then, with an air of gaiety, he smeared the board with his hand, gently wiped the pieces down, piled them up in a heap, and thoughtfully, like a fastidious artist, arranges a new game with the same images and reassembles them. , making them form new intricate relationships.The second game is very similar to the first game. It is the same world built with the same material, but the colors have changed, the speed has changed, the theme of emphasis is different, and the situation is different. In this way, the clever builder composes game after game out of the same images, each of which is a part of me.The games look alike from a distance, clearly belonging to the same world and from the same source, yet each scene is completely new.

'It should be the art of living,' he lectured. 'In the future, you yourself are free to continue to shape your life game, to make it alive, to make it complicated, to make it colorful, and that is your business.In a higher sense, all wisdom begins with madness, so we can also say that all art, all imagination begins with schizophrenia.There are even some scholars who recognize this a little bit, for example, in the very interesting book "The Prince's Magic Horn".This book describes the hard work of a scholar, ennobled by the collaboration of geniuses of many mad, in-house artists.That's it, please put away your character, this game will often make you happy in the future.A character who is extravagant today, turned into an intolerable monster, spoils your fun, can be reduced to a supporting role tomorrow.The pathetic and lovable character who seems destined for hapless stardom one moment can be a princess next time.Good luck to you, my sir. "

I bowed deeply to the talented chess player gratefully, put the small chess piece in my pocket, and retreated through the narrow door. I thought, I'll go back to the porch and just sit on the floor and play with these little characters for hours and forever.However, no sooner had I returned to the bright circular corridor than a new powerful current carried me away.A slogan shone brightly in front of me. ┌—————————————┐ │ The Miracle of the Steppenwolf Trainer│ └—————————————┘ When I saw this sign, I had mixed feelings; all kinds of fears and dreads came back from my old life, from forgotten realities, and it made me feel sick.I opened the door with trembling hands and walked into the room like a New Year's fair.I saw that an iron railing had been installed inside, separating me from the stage.On the stage stood an animal trainer, a gentleman who had the air of a peddler in a market.He sported a broad beard, muscular upper arms, and a fancy circus costume.Even so, he was very much like me, sinister and repulsive. This strong man was leading a big, handsome, terribly thin wolf with ugly eyes on a rope like a dog. It was a real sight. Miserable!Watching a ruthless tamer make this noble yet humble beast perform a series of tricks and sensational shows is sickening and tense, abhorrent and mysteriously entertaining.

This man is my goddamn twin, who tames the wolf.The wolf obeyed every order very carefully, and responded humbly to every call and whip. It knelt down on its knees, pretended to be dead, stood on its hind legs, and obediently took the bread, Eggs, meat, small baskets, it even picked up the whip dropped by the tamer with its beak, and sent it to him, wagging its tail humbly.A rabbit was brought up in front of the wolf, and then came up a little white lamb. The wolf opened its mouth wide and exposed its teeth.The rabbit and the lamb trembled and crouched on the ground. The wolf leaped gracefully over them as ordered, and even sat down between the rabbit and the lamb, hugging them with its front paws, and forming a group with them. A moving family scene.At this time, it licked a piece of chocolate from the human hand.How far the wolf has learned to deny his own nature!Seeing this, I feel that this is a kind of torture and suffering, and I can't help but feel horrified.

However, in the second part of the show.Excited spectators join the wolf and are rewarded for its torment.The above-mentioned exquisite animal taming festival performance was over, and the animal tamer was proud of the combination of wolf and sheep, bowed to the audience with a sweet smile, and then switched roles.The animal trainer who looked exactly like Harry suddenly bowed deeply, put the whip in front of the wolf, and shivered like the previous wolf, looking very pitiful.But the wolf laughed and licked its mouth. The previous convulsions and hypocrisy were gone, its eyes shot fiercely, and its whole body was strong and powerful. It regained its wildness and was full of energy.

Now it is the wolf who gives the order, and the man obeys the wolf.The man obeyed the order, fell on his knees, pretended to be a wolf, stuck out his tongue, and tore his clothes with his filled teeth.He walks now on two legs, now crawls on all fours, at the command of the tamer, sits up like an animal, plays dead, rides a wolf, sends him a whip, anything insulting, abnormal , he accepts it all humbly, does a brilliant job, and is full of fantasy.A beautiful girl came onto the stage, approached the tamed man, stroked his chin, and stomped his cheek close to his face, but he remained on all fours, continued to be a beast, shook his head, and began to grin at the beauty, In the end, he threatened her with a fierce look like a wolf, scaring her away.Offered him the chocolate, he sniffed it contemptuously and pushed it away.Finally, the little white sheep and the fat and tender little flower rabbit were put on the stage, and the easy-to-train people performed the last trick: pretending to be a wolf.He finds it a pleasure.He grabbed the screaming animals with his fingers and teeth, tore pieces of skin and flesh from them, and devoured them with a smile, closed his eyes happily, and drank the steaming blood with relish. I ran out of the door in fear.I saw that this magic theater is not a holy paradise, but under its beautiful appearance is hell.Oh God, isn't this the place of liberation and transcendence? I ran back and forth in fear, feeling the taste of blood and chocolate in my mouth, both of which were disgusting.I have a strong desire to leave this turbid world, eagerly trying to recall a more bearable and a little friendlier picture in myself."Oh, my friend, don't you want that tone?" I thought with horror. I recalled with horror the horrible pictures I sometimes saw of the front lines during the war, and the piles of corpses piled up in criss-crossed piles, with the headbands on their heads. Wearing a gas mask, every face turned into a grinning grimace.At the time, I was horrified by these pictures when I opposed war with friendly feelings toward humanity.How stupid, how naive, in retrospect!I now know that the same thoughts and pictures lurk in me whether it be the tamer, the minister, the general, or the lunatic, and they are equally abominable, savage, vicious, brutish, and stupid. With a sigh of relief, I recalled a sign at the beginning of the theater corridor.Earlier, I saw that handsome young man eagerly going through that door.The sign reads: ┌—————————————┐ │ All girls are yours │ └—————————————┘ I think, in a word, there is nothing more worth pursuing than this.Glad to escape the damned wolf world again, I walked in through the door. I felt that it was as far away as the legend said, and at the same time so familiar, I couldn't help shivering.A breath of my youth, the breath of my boyhood drifted towards me, it was so strange, and my heart seemed to flow with the blood of that time.What I did, what I thought just now, I forgot all at once, and I became young again.An hour ago, a moment ago, I thought I knew perfectly well what love is, what is pursuit, what is longing, and yet this is the love and longing of an old man.Now I am young again, and what I feel in my heart now--this burning fire, this longing that pulls strongly, this passion that melts everything like a warm March wind--is young and fresh ,real.Oh, the forgotten fire burns again, the old voice grows deeper and louder, the blood boils, the soul sings for joy!I am a child of fifteen or sixteen years old. My mind is full of Latin and Greek, and I can recite many beautiful lines of poetry. My thoughts are full of pursuit and ambition, and my imagination is full of the dream of an artist.But what burns deeper, stronger, and more terrible in me than all these raging fires are the fires of love, longing for the opposite sex, tormenting premonitions of joy. I am standing on a rocky knoll, and at the foot of the hill is my small hometown.The spring breeze is warm, and there is a fragrance of violets in early spring. The river flowing through the small town is shining, and the windows of my hometown seem to be looking up at me. , Let people immerse themselves in creation, everything emits deep brilliance, everything is wandering in the spring breeze.This is how I saw the world before, in the fulfilling, poetic years of early adolescence.I stand on the hill, the spring breeze strokes my long hair!Drenched in dreamy yearning for love, I plucked with my bewildered hands a half-opened shoot from a newly greening bush, held it up to my eyes, and smelled it (smelling this leaf fragrance, everything in front of my eyes clearly again), and then I closed my lips on this little green shoot and chewed it. My lips have never kissed a girl yet.Tasting this sour and bitter taste, I suddenly knew exactly where I was, and it all came back.I'm reliving a shot from the last year of my childhood, a Sunday afternoon in early spring; on this day I bumped into Rosa Kreisler on a solitary walk, greeted her shyly, He fell in love with her blankly. That was the first time I saw this beautiful girl.She walked up the hill dreamily, alone, without seeing me.I watched her go up the mountain with trepidation.Her hair was braided into two thick braids, with loose strands hanging down each cheek, fluttering in the breeze.For the first time in my life, I saw such a beautiful girl, her hair fluttering in the wind is so graceful and elegant, she is wearing a thin blue dress, the hem of the skirt hangs down from her legs, how graceful and attractive .Like the bitter-sweet taste of the shoots I chew, the sight of spring approaching brings an uneasy yet sweet feeling of joy and fear, and the sight of this girl fills me with a sense of A fatal premonition of love, a premonition of women.I have a presentiment of great possibilities and promises, of nameless joys, unimaginable deliriums, fears and pains, of the deepest deliverance and the deepest guilt.Oh, the bitterness of spring burns my tongue!Oh, how the playful spring breeze blows the messy hair around her bright red sides!Then she approached me, raised her head, recognized me, blushed a little, and turned her face away; I took off my confirmation cap and greeted her, and Rosa quickly calmed down Yes, she smiled slightly, returned the gift quietly, raised her head, and walked forward slowly, steadily, and proudly. I watched her off, and threw thousands of lovesickness, requests, and respects to her. It was a Sunday thirty-five years ago.At this moment, the scenes from that time came back to me one after another: the hills and the city, the March breeze and the smell of buds, Rosa and her brown hair, the growing longing and the sweet and suffocating love. scared mood.Everything was as it was then, and it seemed to me that I had never in my life loved anyone as much as I loved Rosa.This time, I wanted to receive her differently.I saw her blushing suddenly when she recognized me, trying to hide her shyness, and I knew immediately that she liked me; this reunion meant something to her as well as to me.I no longer took off my hat as I did last time, and stood solemnly to let her pass by.This time, overcoming my fear and embarrassment, I obeyed the dictates of my feelings, and cried out, "Rosa! Here you come, oh beautiful girl, thank God! I love you so much." Maybe it wasn't the moment The smartest things that can be said, except that no wit is needed here, these few words are perfectly sufficient.Rosa did not put on a ladylike appearance, and continued to walk forward. She stopped, looked at me, and blushed even more."Hello, Harry, do you really like me?" she said, and the brown eyes had a life of light in her strong face.I felt that my whole life and loves had been wrong from the moment I let Rosa run away from me that Sunday.Messy and full of stupid misfortunes.Now, the mistake has been corrected, everything is different, everything is better again. We stretched out our hands, held them tightly, and walked forward slowly hand in hand, feeling extremely happy.We were all embarrassed and didn't know what to say, so we quickened our pace and ran until we were out of breath.We never let go.The two of us were children, didn't know what to do with each other, and even though we didn't have a kiss, we were both incredibly happy that Sunday.We stood facing each other, gasped for a while, sat down on the grass, I stroked the hand of the ground, she shyly stroked my hair with the other hand, we stood up again, to see who was taller, I was taller than her One finger, but I don't admit it, saying that we are exactly the same height, God has decided that we are a couple, and we will get married in the future.At this time Rosa said that she smelled the fragrance of violets. We knelt on the short spring grass to look for violets. We found a few short-stemmed violets, and everyone gave the violets they found to each other.The sky was getting colder and the sun was slanting on the rocks. Rosa said that she should go home. Both of us felt sad because I couldn't go back with her, but we both had a secret in our hearts, and this secret was ours. The loveliest thing in possession.I'm still standing on the rock above, smelling the violets Rosa gave me.I lay down on a steep rock with my face down the mountain, looked down at the city and waited, and finally saw her lovely little figure appear under the rock, and watched her pass the well and the small bridge.I know, now that she's home, going through the rooms, and I'm lying here, far away from her, but there's a belt that connects us, and a river that runs from me to her. , a secret floated from me to her. Throughout the spring, we often met, sometimes here, sometimes there, sometimes on the hills, sometimes by the garden fence.We kissed timidly for the first time as the lilacs began to bloom.We children don't have much to give to each other, we just kissed lightly, without the fire of passion, I only dared to stroke the loose hair around her ear lightly.But it's all ours and all we can do in terms of love and joy.Once we touch each other carefully, say a childish love word, and wait anxiously for each other once, we learn a new kind of happiness, and we climb another step on the ladder of love. And just like that, I started with Rosa and Violet and went through my entire love life again under happier stars.Rosa is gone, and Imgart is in her place, and the sun is hotter and the stars are more joyful, and Rosa and Imgart are not mine, and I must climb step by step, To experience all kinds of things, to learn a lot, I had no choice but to lose Imgard and Anna again.I am in love again with every girl I ever loved in my youth, I can arouse the love of every one of them, give each of them something, and get something from each of them.Wishes, dreams and possibilities that used to exist only in my imagination are now a reality for me to experience.Oh, you beautiful flowers, Ida and Basil, all the girls I've loved for a summer, a month or a day! I see that I am that pretty, hearty young man I saw earlier rushing toward the door of love, and that I am now enjoying this little part of me, at best my whole being and ten percent of my life. This little part of one or one thousandth, let it grow, let it be unencumbered by all other images of mine, undisturbed by thinkers, untroubled by Steppenwolves, poets, visionaries, The ridicule of moralists.No, I am nothing but a lover now, and I breathe only the happiness and pain of love.Imgart taught me to dance, Ida taught me to kiss, the prettiest Imma was the first - it was an autumn evening, we were under the elm of the mother-in-law of the leaves - I kissed her pale brown breast , the girl who made me drink the wine of pleasure. In Pablo's Little Theater, I experienced many, many experiences, and it is difficult to express even a thousandth of them in words.All the girls I've loved are mine now, and each girl gave me something that only she could give me, and I gave each girl something that only she knew how to take.I have tasted love, happiness, joy, bewilderment, and pain, and in this dream hour all the delayed loves of my life bloom again in my garden, some white and delicate, some bright and fiery, some Some have faded, some have withered and withered, and each of them symbolizes blazing joy, ardent dream, burning sorrow, fearful death and radiant new life.I have met women of all kinds, some only to be had in a hasty, dashing pursuit, and some only to be courted long and discreetly, and this pursuit is a blessing; every day of my life A dark corner appeared in front of my eyes again. In this dark corner, even if it was only for a minute, the voice of the opposite sex called out to me, the glance of a woman once aroused my passion, and the girls were white Glowing skin once seduced me, and everything that was delayed has been made up for.Every girl is loved by me in their own way.A fair-haired woman with strange dark brown eyes appeared, with whom I had stood for a quarter of an hour by the window of the passage of an express train, and who had appeared in my dreams several times since, without saying a word , but she taught me unexpected, frightening, deadly love techniques.The Chinese woman in Port Marseilles has smooth skin, a quiet personality, a dull smile, clean black hair, and wandering eyes. She also knows some unheard of things.Every girl has her secrets, has a local flavor of her hometown, kisses and laughs in her own way, feels ashamed in her own special way, and shows not shy in her own special way.They come and go, the torrent brings them to me, me to them, and me away from them, an innocent swim in the river of sex, full of twist, full of danger, full of surprises .I was amazed to see that my life--the life of a Steppenwolf so apparently poor and loveless--was filled with love, chance, and temptation.I almost delayed them all.I avoid them, I ignore them, I quickly forget them.However, they are kept here in hundreds and hundreds, and there is no shortage of one.Now I see them, deal with them, hold nothing against them, sink into their dark, pink shimmering hell.The temptations that Pablo offered me returned, and other, earlier ones, fantastic three- or four-player games that I didn't quite understand at the time absorbed me into their roulette.Many things happened, many games were played, all of which cannot be described in words. Serenely and silently, I floated up again from this endless river full of temptations, sins, and entanglements.I'm ready, I'm full of knowledge, I'm learned, I'm mature, it's Hermine's turn.She—Hermine—does appear as the last figure in my myth of many figures, and her name is last in this endless procession.But at the same time, I regained my senses and ended the fairy tale of love, because I would not meet her in the twilight of the magic mirror, and what belonged to her was not a pawn in my chess game, but the whole of Harry.Oh, I'm going to change my image game so it's all about her and finally possess her as I wish. The torrent carried me to the bank, and I was again standing in the silent box corridor of the theatre.What to do now?I reached into my pocket to touch the chess pieces, however, the desire to place them quickly disappeared again.Around me was an endless world of doors, signs, and magic mirrors.I casually glanced at the sign closest to me, and couldn't help but shudder, it read impressively: ┌—————————————┐ │How to kill with love│ └————————————┘ A memory picture flashes through my mind, jerking rapidly, fleetingly: Hermine sitting at a table in a restaurant, suddenly stops her knife and fork, and begins to talk incessantly.She told me, with a terrible seriousness in her eyes, that she would make me love her only if I killed her.A huge wave of fear and darkness hit my heart, and suddenly, everything appeared in front of my eyes again, the graveyard, and I felt pain and loss deep in my heart.Desperately, I reached into my pocket to get out the pieces, to do some magic, to change the way my board was laid out.But.There was no chess piece in my pocket, and what I took out was a knife.I was so frightened that I ran down the corridor, passed a door, and suddenly came to the big mirror and looked into it.In the mirror was a beautiful big wolf, as tall as me, standing quietly, with a pair of restless eyes shooting a shy look.Its piercing eyes looked at me, and it grinned, revealing its blood-red tongue. Where is Pablo?Where is Hermine?Where is the smart guy who talked so well about the structure of characters? I took another look in the mirror.I was crazy just now.There is no wolf sticking out its tongue in the tall mirror at all.It was me in the mirror, Harry, with a gray face, abandoned by all the games, exhausted by all the sins, terribly pale, but still human, someone to talk to. "Harry," I said, "what are you doing here?" "Nothing," said the one in the mirror, "I'm just waiting. I'm waiting to die." "Where is the death?" "Here it comes," said the one.Then, from the empty room inside the theatre, I heard music, beautiful and terrible, the music that accompanies the entrance of the guest of stone in Don Juan.The cold voice came from beyond, from the Immortals, and it came horribly through the dark house. "Mozart!" I thought, and with this cry conjured up the loveliest and noblest pictures of my inner life. At this time, there was a burst of laughter behind me, a burst of hearty and cold laughter.This laughter comes from beyond the unknown, from the suffering and divine humor.Hearing this laughter, my whole body was chilled, and at the same time I felt happy.I turned around, and Mozart walked towards me. He walked past me with a smile, and walked slowly towards a box door. He opened the door and walked in with a calm demeanor.I eagerly followed him, the god of my youth, the object of love and adoration I had pursued all my life.The music is still playing.Mozart stood by the railing of the box, and the vast and endless hall was tired and he couldn't see anything. "You see," said Mozart, "you can do without the saxophone. Although I certainly don't want to belittle this beautiful instrument." "Where are we?" I asked. "We're watching the last scene of Don Giovanni, where Leporero is on his knees. It's an excellent scene, and the music is okay. There's all sorts of very human things in the music, but still Can feel the taste of the other side, you listen to that laughter, right?" "This is the last great piece of music ever written," I said with teacher-like solemnity. "Of course, then there was Schubert, Hugo Wolf, and of course the poor and lovely Chopin. You frown, master of music? Oh, and Beethoven, of course, he is also wonderful. But , although all these are beautiful, they already contain gaps and elements of disintegration. Since the advent of "Don Juan", human beings have never created a seamless masterpiece." "Don't worry too much," Mozart said mockingly, laughing. "Perhaps you are a musician yourself? Besides, I've given up my profession and I'm living out my old age. It's just for the fun of it that I occasionally look at things like that." He raised his hand as if commanding, and a bright moon rose slowly somewhere, maybe it was some other silvery-white star. and the coast loomed, and below us a vast, desert-like plain stretched far into the distance.On the level ground we saw a solemn old man with a long beard and a sad face, leading a mighty procession of thousands of men in black.He looked very sad and hopeless.Mozart said: "You see, this is Brahms. He is seeking detachment, but it will take a long time." I have heard that these thousands of men in black are actors and performers of his songs and compositions, and that, by divine judgment, they are superfluous in his total score. "The composition is too bloated, and too much material is wasted," Mozart said with a nod. Then we see Richard Wagner marching at the head of another mighty procession, and we feel how the weary thousands hold him and absorb him into the procession; we see him also marching Walking slowly with weary steps. "In my youth," I said sadly, "these two musicians were the two greatest extremes imaginable." Mozart smiled. "Yes, it has always been. From a distance, such opposites usually become more and more similar. And the bulk is not the fault of Wagner and Brahms personally, it is the fault of their time." "How do you say? Are they going to pay such a heavy price for this?" I shouted accusingly. "Of course, this is a legal process. Only when they pay off the debts they owed at that time can they see how much their personal debts are left and whether it is worth settling." "But, neither of them can do anything about it!" "Of course they can't do anything. What can they do when Adam ate the forbidden fruit, but they have to atone for it." "this is too scary." "Yes, life is always terrible. There is nothing we can do about it, and we are responsible for it. Man is born sinful. You don't know that. You seem to have had a different religion class." I felt very miserable and very uncomfortable.I saw myself become a tired pilgrim, walking on the desert on the other side, I shouldered many redundant books written by myself, carried all the articles written by myself, all the essays, followed by a long The ranks, the workers who had to type for me and the readers who had to swallow my words.my God!Also, Adam and the forbidden fruit and all the other ancestral sins are still there.All of these require confession and atonement. Purgatory is boundless!这些罪孽都赎完了才提出这个问题：是否还存在个人的、自己的东西，我的行为及其后果是否只是海洋上空洞的泡沫，只是历史长河中毫无意义的游戏。 莫扎特看见我沮丧的脸，大笑起来。他笑得在空中翻起筋斗，用脚打出颤音。同时，他对我喊道：“晦，我的年轻人，难道舌头在咬你，肺在拧你？你在想你的读者、狼吞虎咽的人，可怜的大吃大喝的人，想你的排字工人，异教徒，该死的教唆犯、霍霍磨刀的人？这真可笑，你这条龙，使人大笑，让人笑破肚子，笑得尿裤子！噢，你这颗虔诚的心，你满身涂上黑油墨，充满心灵的痛苦，我捐给你一支蜡烛，让你开开心。叽叽喳喳，啥啥叨叨，骚骚扰扰，闹闹恶作剧，摇摇尾巴，别犹豫，快向前。再见，魔鬼会来抓你，就为你写的东西接你、打你，你写的东西都是剽窃来的。” 这可太过分了，我怒发冲冠，不能再忧伤了。我抓住莫扎特的辫子，他逃走了，辫子越来越长，仿佛像扫帚星的尾巴，我挂在这尾巴的尽头，绕着世界飞快地旋转着。见鬼，这世界真冷！这些不朽者能忍受非常稀薄的冰冷的空气。不过，冰冷的空气使人愉快，这是我在失去知觉前的瞬间的感觉。一种又苦又辣的欢乐传遍我的全身，我觉得浑身冰冷，眼前有什么东西在闪烁发光，我很想像莫扎特那样爽朗地、神秘地狂笑。正在这时，我停止了呼吸，失去了知觉。