I was still worried about his lack of freedom and the limited scope of his world, and one day I had the idea of gradually widening a gap in the wire fence, or rather a gap between the iron post holding up one end of the fence and the wall it was leaning against and attached to at various points. What I did was separate the post from the wall a little at a time: if the dog really wanted to get out, I thought, at some point he’d realize he could use that gap, and it wouldn’t take much effort to widen it enough to fit through. I didn’t want to take all the initiative; I thought he should win his freedom for himself, because, as I know all too well, the only true freedom is the kind you win for yourself. At the same time, granting the dog his freedom involved accepting some degree of responsibility for it. I didn’t want to be implicated in anything that might happen when the dog, so unfamiliar with the wider world, was first able to move freely within it. Often, at night, I’ve suffered in silence as visions of the dog under the wheels of a passing car danced before my eyes. I wanted him to share at least some of that responsibility with me by widening the gap in the fence himself. I’d given him the idea; he had to be the one to carry it out.

Exercises

November 28

Yesterday I began discussing an interesting topic, and now I can’t remember what it was, which can only be good news for these handwriting exercises. As I recall, I’d been writing away neatly and patiently until the interesting topic came up, and then any attempt to form the letters properly fell by the wayside. I hope nothing interesting comes up today. It seems unlikely that anything will. Although I got up later than I did yesterday I’m still half-asleep, as if I could have done with a few more hours, and I feel physically exhausted. Maybe I’m having some sort of hepatic or digestive crisis. I’m in that alert, irritable state that makes me oversensitive to sudden noises or movements; it’s a kind of half-awakeness, as if a part of me—and an important part, at that—is asleep and the small part that’s conscious is busy, among other things, protecting the part that’s still snoozing. As a result, I have a very short attention span and not much energy for practical tasks like this. And although no interesting topics have come up, my handwriting was getting progressively worse until four lines ago, when I realized and started trying to do a bit better, with some success. Thankfully, I’m now reaching the end of the page. I hope I’m feeling better when I come back to this work tomorrow.

The Discourse

November 28