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Vienna, December 2, 1874
Dear Friend,
Your prompt reply to my much-enduring1 letter compels me to emulate your speed, lest you jump to false conclusions about my tardiness, and so that you might hear exactly what happened as soon as possible. The truth is that I reflected on my last letter for five days, and when it had been written I carried it around in my pocket for three days, like a marsupial harboring its young on its body after birth. Next I encapsulated it in an envelope, could not recall your address for a whole day, and when in the end I did remember it, dragged the letter about again—because I was loath to be separated from it—for another whole day as superfluous ballast on my wanderings through the more remote suburbs of Vienna, until finally a yawning abyss in the suburb of Alser2 received it and carried it the way of all letters, or of those letters that are not misappropriated.
You will realize that after such experiences one is entitled to have a very noticeable physiognomy. If you are surprised that I could forget something so important for so long, then I must rejoin that often, at least twice daily, I recalled my obligation to attend to the letter but never had the time to exploit these impulses of memory. What good were such reminders directly before dozing off, or in the physiology lecture hall, or just as I cut my finger, when each time no post box was handy and the letter was forgotten again as soon as I was out in the street? My absentmindedness, however, seems to