"Ah, zee night, eet ees steel young" he thought in Paris in 1927, in Albania in 1983. Leaving the world outside his apartment to manage its own affairs, he made a conscious decision to become more introspective. And then he noticed--in no particular order--zee wine bottle, zee knife, and zee glass. Zee knife was a small pedestrian knife of the sort one might use to peel an orange. It was protruding from his left forearm. Its insertion and subsequent severing of blood vessels had allowed a great deal of his blood to throb into a puddle on the floor. He quickly lost interest in his forearm after discovering the objects on the right to be more interesting.
He scrutinized zee glass, which was empty. Lipstick merged with the dried wine on the rim. A small moistureless stain of wine occupied zee bottom of zee glass.
But zee bottle, ah, zee bottle. Zee bottle was nearly full. "I've discovered a problem within a few inches of its solution!" he exclaimed. He was growing more optimistic by the day.
Peripheral vision or a slight tingling again drew his attention to zee knife. "I must remove zee knife" he thought. He was very excited: he had found a second solution to a second problem--or was it the other way around?
It was time for unequivocal action. He reached for zee bottle with his unsteady left arm. Zee knife flopped silently onto the floor. He steadied his hand, grasped the bottle, and poured wine to the top of the glass. A few drops of wine spilled over the rim and blended agreeably with the blood.
He took a couple of small sips from the wine glass. His mind wandered. He pressed his wrist firmly against his chest even though he was almost done bleeding.
He finished drinking zee glass of wine. He enjoyed the warm glow that comes both from wine and from achieving one's goals. He went to sleep listening with fascination to the radio's white noise static.
