is overwhelmed by work, he says. Broken by it, by the prospect of it. Administration! I love it, of course. I’m at it all day in my office. How do I even begin?, W. wonders. How can I make a start when the task itself is so immense?I must not be able to see the whole thing, W. says. The big picture is closed to me. Otherwise, how could I go on? How could I persist from day to day? W., by comparison, is a seer, he says. He’s seen too much! He knows where it’s heading! He’s seen through the day to the night, and to the night of all nights.He can imagine it, W. says: I pause from my ceaseless administrative work, look up for a moment … What am I thinking about? What thought has struck me? But he knows I am full only of administrative anxieties, and my pause is only a slackening of the same relentless movement.And what of him, when he looks up from his administrative labours? What does he see? Of what is he dreaming? Of a single thought from which something might begin, he says.
