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I wrote this story “The Judgment” in a single push during the night of the 22nd23rd, from ten o’clock until six o’clock in the morning. My legs had grown so stiff from sitting that I could just barely pull them out from under the desk. The terrible strain and joy as the story developed in front of me, as if I were advancing through a body of water. Several times during this night I carried my own weight on my back. How everything can be risked, how a great 1⁄2re is ready for everything, for the strangest inspirations, and they disappear in this 1⁄2re and rise up again . . . . It is only in this context that writing can be done, only with this kind of coherence, with such a complete unfolding of the body and the soul.