Happening by Annie Ernaux, Winner of the 2022 Nobel Prize for Literature:
I turned all my attention to sport, hoping that my strenuous efforts or maybe even a fall might dislodge “that thing,” making it unnecessary for me to visit the woman in the 17th arrondissement. When Annick lent me her skiing gear, which I couldn’t afford to hire, I would repeatedly tumble, imagining each time I did that I was inflicting the fall that would save me. One day, after P and Annick had refused to climb any further, accompanied by Gontran alone I decided to brave the summit of Puy Jumel in my fake leather boots with their flared tops that let in the snow. I trudged on ahead, my eyes glued to the slope, dazzled by the reflection, finding it more and more difficult to extricate my feet from the powdery snow, driven by the overriding urge to make that embryo let go. I was convinced I had to push back my own limits and reach the top of the mountain to get rid of it. I wore myself out to kill it under me.
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