A monologue from the play by August Strindberg
Perhaps. But you are too. Everything is wonderful for that matter. Life, people -everything. Everything is wreckage, that drifts over the water until it sinks, sinks.
I have the same dream every now and then and at this moment I am reminded of it.
I find myself seated at the top of a high pillar and I see no possible way to get down. I grow dizzy when I look down, but down I must.
But I’m not brave enough to throw myself; I cannot hold fast and I long to fall -but I don’t fall. And yet I can find no rest or peace until I shall come down to earth;
and if I came down to earth I would wish myself down in the ground. Have you ever felt like that?