Peaceful snow today. The icy winds of the past days felt more appropriate for my state of mind; being flogged and battered by the weather seemed right, almost like a relief: the violence from without competing with the violence from within.
We used to walk this path often. He liked it; the ground was soft earth, not unfriendly gravel.
For the first time since he left me I tried to shop for food, but what is the meaning of anything when he’s not alive? I tried to remember what interested me before this happened; I have no idea. If somebody asked me what ‘anthroposophy’ is, I wouldn’t know — what is it, but an empty word? I tried to find a book on any topic — just any book that I could read or look at without reading. It is not possible. I suppose there were things I couldn’t do when he was still here, but I have no idea what they were. Perhaps to bake better bread? But they taste bland regardless. I really, truly don’t want anything in this world — except the one thing I can’t have.