I walked into the house, now in darkness. I struck
a match, and the little yellow-papered music room frightened me.
I lit a cigarette, and, as always happens, when one
turns in a circle of inextricable contradiction, I began to
smoke. I smoked cigarette after cigarette to dull my senses,
that I might not see my contradictions. All night I
did not sleep, and at five o’clock, when it was
not yet light, I decided that I could stand this
strain no longer, and that I would sit at the
piano. The piano was my refuge, my solace, my escape.
Paraphrases from the story “The Kreutzer Sonata” by Leo Tolstoy.