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I, I swear, I am not afraid of death, but of agony, yes, it frightens me, especially when it lasts for years, and cuts short your work, and you feel unwell, you would need to rest and heal, and instead, they keep pestering you— the landlords, the meter readers, Mara with the communion and the baby’s little balls, the taxes, the sales representatives, the employers, the doctors, the pharmacists, the promissory notes, the clothing collectors.
The agony continues until all of them think that there’s still a way to take something more from you, and until you have the strength to carry on.
Then they let you die.
.: Luciano Bianciardi from "La vita agra" :.
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