Witold Gombrowicz

And even though each one of the objects in the little room was hers, Katasia’s, they acquired the ability to express her only when taken as a whole, creating a substitute for her presence, a second presence that I was violating through Fuks—with his flashlight—while I was standing to one side, on watch

it reminded me of a dance when the music suddenly stops and all the couples stand dumbstruck, it was all so stupid

if I could appropriately decipher the arrangement of those places and things, I might find out the truth about my having strangled the cat