I have been suffering from a running nose for weeks. Most of this month has been rather chilly, but the last few days have been horrendous. Day after day, Motovun is wrapped into a thick, wet fog from dawn till dusk. The temperature has dropped precipitously, as well, but it is still above freezing. My cold has gotten worse, too. It is ever harder to breathe, especially in the wee hours, when I toss in bed. I have developed a nasty cough, which is occasionally hard to control. Now and then I get an attack of sneezing so persistent and violent that I fear it will never end. Most of the time I just sit and stare out of my head, though. The only good thing is that I still do not have a fever. Make that two good things, instead: for days upon days I have had not a single thought.

Addendum (December 21, 2015)

It is an enormous joy to come across a piece such as this one on a random journey through my writings. Yes, I feel like shouting at the top of my voice, the tyranny of thought is the greatest tyranny of all. And the greatest task lying ahead is to shake it away once and for all. The fucking tyranny. Even illness is a godsend in this context, as this piece amply demonstrates. The same holds for senile dementia. Perhaps even death is superior to perpetual slavery to the nagging mind that never stops churning and baying for attention. The last sentence of this piece cannot but make me smile, though. Ah, what a joy it is to read it over and over again. And out loud. For what can possibly beat days upon days without a single thought?!