Part I

           ItwasduringthetimeIwanderedaboutandstarvedinChristiania:Christiania,thissingularcity,fromwhichnomandepartswithoutcarryingawaythetracesofhissojournthere.

           IwaslyingawakeinmyatticandIheardaclockbelowstrikesix.Itwasalreadybroaddaylight,andpeoplehadbeguntogoupanddownthestairs.BythedoorwherethewalloftheroomwaspaperedwitholdnumbersoftheMorgenbladet,IcoulddistinguishclearlyanoticefromtheDirectorofLighthouses,andalittletotheleftofthataninflatedadvertisementofFabianOlsens’new-bakedbread.

           TheinstantIopenedmyeyesIbegan,fromsheerforceofhabit,tothinkifIhadanythingtorejoiceoverthatday.Ihadbeensomewhathard-uplately,andoneaftertheotherofmybelongingshadbeentakentomy"Uncle."Ihadgrownnervousandirritable.AfewtimesIhadkeptmybedforthedaywithvertigo.Nowandthen,whenluckhadfavouredme,Ihadmanagedtogetfiveshillingsforafeuilletonfromsomenewspaperorother.

           Itgrewlighterandlighter,andItooktoreadingtheadvertisementsnearthedoor.Icouldevenmakeoutthegrinningleanlettersof"winding-sheetstobehadatMissAndersen’s"ontherightofit.Thatoccupiedmeforalongwhile.IheardtheclockbelowstrikeeightasIgotupandputonmyclothes.

           Iopenedthewindowandlookedout.FromwhereIwasstandingIhadaviewofaclothes-lineandanopenfield.

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Roboto Lora
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