The things we do!

And the
clusters from the rowans drop with a sullen thud and bury themselves in
the moss.
Grindhusen is right, perhaps: tomorrow will surely look after itself, just
as today. I have not seen a paper now these last two weeks, and, for all
that, here I am, alive and well, making great progress in respect of
inward calm; I sing, and square my shoulders, and stand bareheaded
watching the stars at night.
For eighteen years past I have sat in cafes, calling for the waiter if a
fork was not clean: I never call for Gunhild in the matter of forks clean
or not! There's Grindhusen, now, I say to myself; did you mark when he lit
his pipe, how he used the match to the very last of it, and never burned
his horny fingers? I saw a fly crawling over his hand, but he simply let
it crawl; perhaps he never noticed it was there. That is the way a man
should feel towards flies....
In the evening, Grindhusen takes the boat and rows off. I wander along the
beach, singing to myself a little, throwing stones at the water, and
hauling bits of driftwood ashore.


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