February 2. Court hearing. It consists of the judge asking both parties a series of questions, to which they respond Yes, I do and No, I haven’t. Apart from that, under the watchful eyes of their lawyers, they are careful not to make any other utterance. The judge concludes by commending the parties for reaching an agreement outside the court, which was undoubtedly hard work, but much better than having a stranger – in this case him – hand down a verdict. With that, the hearing is over, and everyone presses Leave Meeting.

February 1. Started running again. Cautiously. My watch already doesn’t know me anymore and demands I run twice so it can form an opinion.

January 31. Now it’s really pure theater. I’ve had three vaccinations, I’ve had Omikron. I can’t infect myself or anyone else anymore. But I wear the mask, the magic shield, so no one will be scared of me. But it could be! I’m tired of it. So tired.

January 30, Newburgh, Downing Park. Low sun reveals structures in the snow cover on the frozen lake. Park bench under weeping willow. The snow hides the paths, people walk where they remember the paths were, and different walkers had different memories. I sit on the bench and think thoughts that will take me decades, and wait for the sunset.

It’s like the park has no place in this city. The mere idea of a leisurely walk seems absurd. But I know myself: two or three sunsets, two or three times on the same bench, would be enough to gain ground.

January 29. It’s been just under a year since I bought the piano. I feel like I’ve only warmed up to it a little bit. What possible feelings can I have at the end of this year?

January 28. The strength comes back only roughly at the same time as the fever recedes. Watching yourself and seeing someone three levels less than usual.

January 27. I don’t want to sleep all the time anymore. Sometimes, just staring impassively into the air is enough for me now. Fever seems to be gone. First piano exercises. Fever back again.

January 26. Held out for a full day of training. While I’m talking, I don’t notice so much how limp I am. Trying to play piano in the evening and can hardly get my fingers up from the keys. Listless. Anything I want to do takes me several minutes to get going.

January 25. Highest temperature was a hundred and three point something.

Unsurprisingly, the question of whether to treat a fever or let it run is as vehemently debated as so many others. In the last two years, what’s more, the questions have been argued over in front of everyone, with everyone’s voices. I am tired of it.

I am happy about the infection. A few uncomfortable days (but, oh: sleep! sleep!), after that the immune system finds its way even better.

January 24. Nothing but sleep. Chills at two o'clock in the morning.