Chapter 254 Additional questions for evening self-study
Someone has said that evening is a time for thinking and being alone, and Yvonne quite agrees with this statement.
The night naturally blocks external disturbances, strips away distracting thoughts, and brings the mind closer to a clean original state, making it easier to focus on the things in front of you.
Although it sounds strange, it feels good to be away from Kraft for a while. Of course, it's not that there is anything wrong with the former. On the contrary, he has always shown considerable concern and even accommodation.
As a doctor, professor, or participant in some unknown affairs, when you need to appear in more than three places at the same time, taking into account multiple identities and corresponding responsibilities, it is difficult to imagine that a person can still maintain care and concern for the thoughts of other individuals.
Put yourself in someone else’s shoes.
This is undoubtedly good and good, but it is also very heavy. Depending on the perspective and sensitivity of each person, it can be interpreted as closeness, alienation, respect, expectation, or a kind of pressure.
But this does not seem to be a purely psychological effect. Yvonne did feel some kind of pressure, which was especially obvious when Kraft was in a state of concentration. It was like stepping into an irregular pool with him as the center. What could be better than the breeze?
Thicker stuff gives even pressure without acting on the skin.
Judging from other people's reactions, this feeling is probably a special case and not completely real. It is close to looking at a very realistic painting, reading a paragraph of text that describes it in a very detailed and appropriate way, and receiving second-hand information that is conveyed very realistically.
It was accompanied by a nagging low voice, repeating some syllables that might have meaning behind the ears.
Sometimes she would feel that she understood something, but when she thought about it carefully, it would disappear like those old dreams that were evaporated by the sun in the morning.
In this relatively quiet night, the sounds behind the ears also calmed down for a while, allowing people to open books peacefully and study at their own pace.
It would be better if it wasn't so sleepy.
Quietness may not necessarily bring efficiency, but may also bring fatigue.
It has to be said that this trend does exist. Yvonne begins to feel that she is easily tired and slides into obscurity without subjective control. The gap between her and Coop further widens, and the gap breeds more anxiety and pressure.
Self-doubt grows on this fertile ground. The physical changes have not yet opened a breakthrough point for the status quo, but some suspicious side effects have begun to appear.
Being excluded once again further catalyzed the growth of negative perceptions, even if it was known that this soft dissuasion was well-intentioned.
The wax melted and deformed like a handful of hope a month ago, and finally collapsed into a ball. When the knuckle-long candle wick finally began to carbonize, Yvonne suddenly realized that in the middle of the night, he could only see less than half of the progress as before. The drunken man in the tavern diagonally opposite
Han was already humming a bubbling tune and getting ready to leave.
【I do not understand】
She carried the copper candlestick to the bedside and blew out the remaining light, feeling sorry for the candle that wasted her life in vain.
With a sense of exhaustion and nothingness, my body got into the quilt and prepared to welcome tomorrow.
However, the consciousness has not yet completely rested. Yvonne feels that part of herself is still active, shrinking like a cramped muscle, as if it does not fully belong to this body.
But after all, it is still part of the whole, cannot be rid of, and will never end. Perhaps the feeling of fatigue comes from this endless internal friction.
I'm mentally exhausted, but it's probably still a while before I fall asleep.
The low and fine chatter came to the ear again, and short legs like bugs in the hay mattress sprouted, crawling itchingly.
The short, unfamiliar pronunciation points in the ear canal and throat, narrating a bleak, cold and bizarre content. The consciousness steps on the surface of the colorless dream with bare feet, peering through the glass at a memory with no blind spots.
She ran along some avenues and paths made of fine silk threads and dust. Those roads were extended and woven, stretching into the distance according to her will.
It's like swimming in water, no, it's more free than that. It's getting rid of the shackles of solidification and roaming in a certain essential form. It can be integrated into any form and become any form through ubiquitous media.
It is the freest consciousness in its own kingdom. Even if sometimes some forms enter its kingdom, that doesn't matter. These forms will soon become part of the kingdom.
It is no surprise that without consciousness one would be dissatisfied with this kind of life.
Until a crack opened in this kingdom, revealing something that had never been seen before, and therefore never imagined - a rich and colorful world.
So when the rift extended an invitation, she accepted it without hesitation.
Jumping into it, she felt the solid form, heavy and concrete, her eyes were pitch black, her hands and feet were wrapped in quilts, everything was the same as before she fell asleep, and it seemed that everything had quietly changed.
But the sober exhaustion hasn't changed.
Yvonne woke up sleepily. The low sound in her ears had disappeared and was replaced by strange sounds outside.
It's a bit like returning to the room after a late night, but there are no protracted steps, and there is no subsequent sound of washing and resting.
A low-key whistle sounded through the cracks in the unclosed window, penetrating the night and conveying some meaning unknown to outsiders.
The hurried steps upstairs and shouting made things develop in an unexpected direction. It was a sound that had never been heard in the clinic. Yvonne chose to light a candle on the candlestick, block the light with her hands, and wait for the change.
.
She was still in chaos, with fragmented dream remnants and fatigue taking turns impacting the reservation of consciousness.
Soon, the sounds became even noisier, including the harsh rotation of the old door shafts, jumping and bumping. When the loud sound of heavy objects falling and broken wood came, it was finally difficult to bear it.
Manipulating her body like a puppet, Yvonne put on her boots and got out of bed, picked up the candlestick and opened the door.
Two unimpressive figures were fighting in the corridor. It may not be appropriate to say that one of them had the absolute upper hand.
The sudden appearance of the light source briefly paused the action, the slender back of the arms twisted half a circle, the neck and body were unusually flexible, and the face that was covered by the cover was exposed to the light.
Compared to the man on the ground who was holding the intruder's legs and shouting something, Yvonne could see that face more clearly from his angle.
The pale, moist skin, attached to the asymmetrically deformed bones, pulls out a malicious expression containing cruelty and satisfaction, perhaps an approximation of a smile. It is waiting for the collapse of the person who looks at it, and absorbs something distorted from it.
What the soul likes to see.
He failed to get the expected reaction, only a pair of tired, careless eyes, and incomprehensible movements.
Perhaps out of reflex action, the girl threw the light source in her hand towards him.
The flame went out before it was thrown, and the dark brown metal reflection flickered for less than a blink of an eye, revealing the identity of the object.
A multi-branch candlestick made of pure copper, heavy and expensive, usually used as a fixed ornament.
It disappeared into the returning darkness and lost its track in the field of vision. The roaring wind reminded that something was approaching quickly, but its thoughts and actions were still at the stage of "can be easily brushed away".
A moment of time was stretched in the consciousness. First, the outstretched hand touched something, but it was empty. It passed between the intercepting palms, as if there was no object there.
The thorax flailed and softened, and breathing was forcibly stopped and could not be restarted.
The part of the body blocked on a path lost sensory feedback, and its function and sense of existence disappeared. Severe pain immediately filled the gap, and the irresistible force briefly lifted the feet from the ground, and then fell heavily.