My Singular Irene

Life is unjust and treacherous this way. One makes an effort to walk a clear and straight path, to work like an animal much more than eight hours--which is the usual, to study vehemently, to have a job that will permit one to live decently, to respect the law, to marry as God commands, to be, in short, an honorable citizen, and when one begins to establish himself, to progress, with a house although bought on credit and the car almost paid for, one starts wondering why things like this are not happening to others. I'm not saying it because of the manner in which Irene went away (it is still hard to believe it and I have only returned to the scene of the events because it seems a lie to me that she has left the comfort of her house without any regrets), but it is rather because of what occurs to one on the day least expected

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