page_69 - vigji/cainjb GitHub Wiki

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Annotated text: I came out of my waking dream with temples moist and tongue most damnably dry. I had to believe myself, for I had never previously deceived myself. Yes, I cam to myself, if you must know, when yon same star, thats westward from the pole, had made his course to illume that part of heaven where now it burns. A time, I thought, not only utterly depressing in itself, but also, when one is alone, as Dutch as dillwater. What, I asked myself, ought I to do? The answer was plain enough. When I was ten I had messily collected eggs. When I was twelve I had collected bus tickets and, if I had known where to look for them, would undoubtedly have collected whole ickets also. The answer was plain enough. I must---oh, final and most difficult hobby!---collect myself. It was ghastly. I had seen every minute of it. I had seen a poor old man done slowly to death before my eyes.

Original page:
[page_69.pdf](https://github.com/vigji/cainjb/blob/main/source_material/pages/page_69.pdf)

**Original text**:

I came out of my waking dream with temples moist and tongue most damnably dry. I had to believe myself, for I had never previously deceived myself. Yes, I cam to myself, if you must know, when yon same star, thats westward from the pole, had made his course to illume that part of heaven where now it burns. A time, I thought, not only utterly depressing in itself, but also, when one is alone, as Dutch as dillwater. What, I asked myself, ought I to do? The answer was plain enough. When I was ten I had messily collected eggs. When I was twelve I had collected bus tickets and, if I had known where to look for them, would doubtless have collected whole ickets also. The answer was plain enough. I must---oh, final and most difficult hobby!---collect myself. It was ghastly. I had seen every minute of it. I had seen a poor old man done slowly to death before my eyes.

**Italian text**:
Uscii dal mio lucido sogno con le tempie umide e la
lingua terribilmente secca. Non dovevo dubitare di
me, poiché non mi ero mai ingannata. Sì, tornai in me,
se dovete saperlo, quando la stella che viaggia a ponente
del polo era andata ad accendere la parte del firmamento
dove ora brucia. Un momento, pensai, non
soltanto del tutto deprimente in sé ma anche, quando
si è soli, amaro come una medicina. Mi chiesi che fare.
La risposta era abbastanza semplice. Quando avevo
dieci anni, raccoglievo uova in maniera caotica. Quando
ne avevo dodici, raccoglievo biglietti dell'autobus
e, se avessi saputo dove cercarli, senza dubbio avrei
collezionato anche interi carnet. La risposta era abbastanza
semplice. Devo - oh, l'ultimo hobby, e il più
difficile - raccogliermi da me. Era orribile. Ne avevo
visto ogni istante. Avevo visto un povero vecchio ucciso
lentamente fino a morire davanti ai miei occhi.