入秋以來斷斷續續地生病，感覺「橫著」的時間遠遠超過「豎著」的。一個多月不能運動，無心寫文、無心讀書，連呼吸都困難的日子，真是折磨人的心志。
可是，書，好似我的氧氣，怎能不看？病中還是追了兩本，有意外的驚喜，不過病勢漸猛，還真拿不動書了，更無法在晚上看電子書了。拖著病體，大口喘著氣，每天看幾分鐘吳爾芙的《論生病》（On Being Ill），卻著實喜歡上了她。
雖然吳爾芙的名字在文學界有如驚雷，但淺薄的我並沒有認真讀過她，每每看著書架上的她蒙塵，就無地自容。《論生病》算是我第一本一氣呵成讀完的吳爾芙作品——確實名不虛傳。尤其讀到👇
Indeed it is to the poets that we turn. Illness makes us disinclined for the long campaigns that prose exacts. We cannot command all our faculties and keep our reason and our judgment and our memory at attention while chapter swings on top of chapter, and, as one settles into place, we must be on the watch for the coming of the next, until the whole structure—arches, towers, and battlements— stands firm on its foundations.
