We read, my wife and I, this book this summer ... and he has not left us, after having closed. My wife has even reread twice to try to understand ... but can we control dreams? dissect our relationship with reality? find a path through the maze of the unconscious? This is an exciting novel, as incomprehensible as those of Kafka that resist all analyzes. Of course, there are tracks, assumptions. But we decided, my wife and I, not to retain or rather not to be locked, it would betray the work. What is our own sense of life? To prolong these moments of poetry, I propose as the author, listen to the trio of Beethoven's archeduc. It's beautiful. Very nice.
