Something has happened to me, I can't doubt it anymore. It came as an illness does, not like an ordinary certainty, not like anything evident. It came cunningly, little by little; I felt a little strange, a little put out, that's all. Once established it never moved, it stayed quiet, and I was able to pursuade myself that nothing was the matter with me, that it was a false alarm. And now, it's blossoming.
...
So a change has taken place during these last few weeks. But where? It is an abstract change without object. Am I the one who has changed? If not, then it is this room, this city and this nature. I must choose.
...
(Monday, 29 January, 1932 by A.R. )