marathon

Dalam satu larian kehidupan, aku berjaya ukur dan sukat kebolehan sendiri.

Tetapi, untuk beberapa marathon seterusnya, aku lemah dan hampir mengalah.

*"

I should like to be there when Fanny opens the trunk,
"See, Fanny, this is what I wear in Budapest from an old Jew.... This is what they wear in Bulgaria - It's pure wool.... This belonged to the Duke of something or other - no, you don't wind it, you put it in the sun .... This I want you to wear, Fanny, when we go to the Opera .... wear it with that comb i showed you .... And this, Fanny, is something Tania picked up for me .... she's a little on your type ...."

And fanny is sitting there on the settee, just as she was in the oleograph, with Moe on one side of her and little Murray,  Murray the genius, on the other. Her fat legs are to little too to reach the floor.

Her eyes have a dull permanganate glow. Breast like ripe red cabbage; they bobble a little when she leans forward.

But the sad thing about her is that the juice have been cut off. She sits there like a dead storage battery; her face is out of plumb - it needs a little animation, a sudden spurt of juice to bring back into focus.

Maldorf is jumping around in front of her like a fat toad.
His flesh quivers. He slips and it is difficult for him to roll over again on his belly.

She prods him with her thick toes. His eyes protrude a little further.

"Kick me again, Fanny, that was good." She gives him a good` prod this time - it leaves a permanent dent in his paunch. His face is close to the carpet; the wattles are joggling in the nap of the rug. He livens up a bit, flips around, springs from furniture to furniture.

"Fanny, you are marvelous!"

He is sitting now on her shoulder. He bites a little pieces from her ear, just a little tip from the lobe where it doesn't hurt.

But she still dead - all storage battery and no juice. He falls on her lap and lies there quivering like a toothache.
He is all warm now and helpless. His belly glistens like a patent leather show. In the sockets of his eyes a pair of fancy vest buttons.

"Unbutton my eyes, Fanny, I want to see you better!"
Fanny carries him to bed and drops a little hot wax over his eyes. She puts rings around his navel and a thermometer up his ass.

She places him and he quivers again. Suddenly he's dwindled, shrunk completely out of sight. She searches all over for him, in her intestines, everywhere.

Something tickling her - she doesn't know where exactly. The bed is full of toads and fancy vest buttons.
"Fanny, where are you?" Something is tickling her - she can't say where.

The buttons are dropping of the bed. The toads are climbing the walls. A tickling and tickling.
"Fanny, take the wax out of my eyes! I want to look at you!" But Fanny is laughing, squirming with laughter.

There is something inside her, tickling and tickling. She'll die laughing if she doesn't find it.
"Fanny, the trunk is full of beautiful things. Fanny do you hear me?" Fanny is laughing, laughing like a fat worm.

Her belly is swollen with laughter. He legs are getting blue.
"O God, Morris, there is something tickling me.... I can't help it!"
"
 *an excerpt , Tropic of Cancer, 1934