
You are a writer in Christiania with a rent notice on the door and nothing finished on the page. You pawn your waistcoat, spend the first coin on paper rather than bread, give the last one to a beggar, and push the finished article through the hatch at a newspaper office. Then a woman under a green parasol asks whether you have been following her — you have already named her Ylajali — and the clerk comes out after you holding your pages and an envelope.
Read Hunger