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its solemnity; words divest you of the energy needed to
move from thought to action. In the end, the same happens
with my suicide plans as with my travel plans. I talk so
much about a trip, I consider it from so many angles, that
finally I no longer feel any need to visit the place, because I
have the impression that I’ve already been there. The same
applies here: By exhausting the subject of killing yourself,
you contribute to the feeling that you’ve already killed
yourself. And so, I continue to talk about it in an abstract
way.
I talk about it and people talk to me about it.
We’re having lunch at some friends’ house where I often eat
on Sundays; they have been present in every chapter of our
lives, and now they are watching me for signs of depression.
They are treating me to a weekend in a spa and a trip to
Rome in the spring, all three of us with the girls. X. is
looking into low-cost flights, and when I show interest, he
says in a surprised tone:
“Ah, but you and Píulix will go by plane too?” He knows I
used to move heaven and earth to avoid getting on a plane;
I only flew if it was absolutely necessary. And now he’s
amazed that I react with such indifference.
“Of course we’ll take the plane,” I say.
“Since you never wanted to fly before . . .” he responds.