Межзвёздный скиталец
Chapter 6
AndIsithereinthewarmafternoon,inMurderers’Row,andceasefromthewritingofmymemoirstolistentothesoothingbuzzoffliesinthedrowsyair,andcatchphrasesofalow-voicedconversationbetweenJosephusJackson,thenegromurdereronmyright,andBambeccio,theItalianmurdereronmyleft,whoarediscussing,throughgrateddoortograteddoor,backandforthpastmygrateddoor,theantisepticvirtuesandexcellencesofchewingtobaccoforfleshwounds.
AndinmysuspendedhandIholdmyfountainpen,andasIrememberthatotherhandsofme,inlonggoneages,wieldedink-brush,andquill,andstylus,Ialsofindthought-spaceintimetowonderifthatmissionary,whenhewasalittlelad,evertrailedcloudsofgloryandglimpsedthebrightnessofoldstar-rovingdays.
Well,backtosolitary,afterIhadlearnedthecodeofknuckle-talkandstillfoundthehoursofconsciousnesstoolongtoendure.Byself-hypnosis,whichIbegansuccessfullytopractise,Ibecameabletoputmyconsciousmindtosleepandtoawakenandloosemysubconsciousmind.Butthelatterwasanundisciplinedandlawlessthing.Itwanderedthroughallnightmarishmadness,withoutcoherence,withoutcontinuityofscene,event,orperson.
Mymethodofmechanicalhypnosiswasthesoulofsimplicity.
