'You fling the window open and the room is instantly flooded with

this outer, peal-laden haze, which is part damp oxygen,

part coffee and prayers. No matter what sort of pills,

and how many, you've got to swallow this morning, you

feel it's not over for you yet. No matter, by the same

token, how autonomous you are, how much you've been

betrayed, how thorough and dispiriting is your selfknowledge,

you assume there is still hope for you, or at

least a future.'

 

 

'Watermark'

Joseph Brodsky