The game was that of continually inventing a possible world, or a piece of a possible world, and then of comparing it with the real world. . . a race without end. . . What mattered more than the answers were the questions. . . For me, this world of questions and the provisional, this chase after an answer that was always put off to the next day, all that was euphoric. I lived in the future. . . I had turned my anxiety into my profession.
Do you wear a diaphragm everywhere you go?' I want to scream, but stop myself because the idea really excites me.