The musician Bruckner was handicapped by a counting obsession which overcame him when he was tired.Life is wearing me down by a process of attrition, multiplication and unncessary movement- largely on the parts of birds.The numebr of windows in the streetis easily achievable: furrows in a field, berries on a branch. The thirty-seven roseson my counterpane are unquivocal.But the swallows make my heart racewith their terrible interweavings:and what I dread is a clear skyat night.