Deasy sends me today to what is left of the print news with his letter on foot and mouth disease. He has no chance but I did not say no. He sees I was not born to be a teacher. I said I am a learner, rather. But what is it to be born to something? I was born, yes, but I will die. I was born to that. And I don’t mind. I don’t. I look forward to it. Dying, no. That can only be horrible. But death. Yes. I will take death. Think of the languid peace of it. The freedom from the worlds and worlds of choices I will never have to make or not make. Do or not do. To be and not to be, that’s what you get every time. No. I’ll take death as my fate. I was born to it.